Something Unpredictable
by last1stnding
Summary: When Colonel Robert Hogan falls unexpectedly ill, it sets off a chain reaction of disaster at Stalag 13. Upon his return, Hogan finds his men are gone and a cold Luftwaffe Major in charge, along with a sadistic sergeant. Can Hogan survive long enough to snatch victory from defeat?
1. Chapter 1

_Note: This story first appeared in the fanzine Of Dreams and Schemes #25. Original edits were by C. Schlein. _

_I want to thank everyone who voted for my story, The Art Of Knowing Nothing, back in 2017. It won a share of the bronze for best long drama from the Papa Bear Awards. I was really surprised and pleased by this. Many thanks._

_Lastly, a big thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed or favorited my previous stories. It is appreciated._

One of the many drawbacks to barracks living was the fact that no one had any privacy, Corporal Peter Newkirk decided. Of course, living as a prisoner in the middle of an enemy country in wartime made it all a bit worse. Most terrible of all however was hearing your commanding officer be ill and not being able to do a bloody thing about it.

Colonel Robert Hogan had been unable to eat anything for nearly two days. It had started after a midnight meeting with a local underground leader. Hogan had gone alone and that was a mistake in Newkirk's opinion. The governor had already been tired before this and the English corporal had volunteered to meet with the agent instead. But the man was fearful and would only speak with Papa Bear himself, so Hogan went. A nice, long, cold walk back to camp through a snowstorm later, Hogan was thoroughly chilled on his return. The next morning however, he was up bright and early for roll call. He ate a hearty breakfast and went about camp business as usual. Then, Sergeant James Kinchloe had discovered the Colonel being thoroughly sick before dinner that night. Newkirk had been sure to blame it on Corporal Louis LeBeau's lousy French cooking. By morning however, it was clear that this was much more serious than acute indigestion.

Colonel Hogan had ruffled LeBeau's sensitive feathers by refusing all food that morning. He had hurt Schultz and Carter's feelings by snapping at both of them. He had gotten into an uncharacteristic shouting match with Klink before stomping off to his quarters with orders that everyone stay out. Everyone had but concern continued to mount. Hogan skipped lunch and dinner and basically closed the door on Kinch, who was trying to slip in unobtrusively. The sergeant met the worried looks at the table with one of his own as he sat down to join the ever present card game that nobody was really interested in.

After lights out, Newkirk lay on his bunk, hearing Hogan moving around in his quarters. Sergeant Kinchloe had gone down into the tunnels with the radio. The rest of the group lay on their bunks like ruddy children hoping everything would be all right by morning.

Newkirk resolved to go in after he heard Hogan being sick again, orders or not, when the trick bottom bunk flew up and Kinchloe emerged from the tunnel.

"What is it, Kinch?" LeBeau asked from his bunk, wide awake.

Newkirk heard Sergeant Andrew Carter stir beneath him in his bunk. Andrew hadn't spoken a word since Hogan had told him off earlier. But he jumped up now, eager to have something to do.

Flinging off his thin blanket, Newkirk hopped off the top bunk. "What's the news, Kinch?"

Kinchloe looked as serious as Newkirk could ever remember. "We've got trouble. Bad trouble."

HH HH HH

Robert Hogan leaned his forehead against the wooden window shutters of his quarters. He felt miserable. Alternately chilled, fevered and still sick to his stomach.

This was one of the hot times and on impulse, he opened the window and let the blessedly cold air rush in. A little bit of snow had collected at the bottom of the window sill and reaching down, Hogan rubbed some of it on his sweating, flushed face. It melted instantly and he leaned outside, seeking some relief.

Behind him, the door opened and he heard Kinchloe say, "Colonel Hogan! It's freezing out there!"

Turning, Hogan saw to his immense irritation all of his main guys coming into his room. "Keep back all of you!" He held up a hand to forestall the protests. "I don't know what this is but I don't want anybody else catching this. And that's an order!"

"That's what I've come to tell you, Colonel. I've just heard from the underground. Your contact from last night is very ill. They think its influenza."

Hogan faced them with a stricken look. Influenza had killed millions after World War I. Although they had better medicines today than back then, it was still nothing to fool around with. There were also no guarantees that the Germans would cough up some of their increasingly scarce medicines for an enemy officer.

"I don't have time for this," Hogan whispered in a distracted voice. His mind raced along all the problems this would create; from handling Kommandant Klink and the Germans to coordinating with the Underground and planning sabotage missions. Hogan sank down on his bunk. He had to admit, he was scared. Being deathly ill in a foreign hostile country was not how he pictured it would end, if it had to.

Kinchloe took advantage of his commander's preoccupation to close the window, to the infinite relief of the others.

"How bad is Snow Cardinal?" Hogan asked his second quietly, referring to the Underground agent.

"Pretty bad. The underground has asked for penicillin," Kinch replied quietly.

"Give it to them," Hogan said instantly.

"After you've had a shot, sir," Kinch said firmly.

"Do we have enough?" Hogan's tone was bleak.

"Yes, sir, we do." Kinch did not volunteer that he had already requested London send more immediately.

"Don't worry, _mon Colonel_. We will take care of you," LeBeau insisted.

"You can't," Hogan said miserably. "This stuff must be highly contagious. It will spread through the whole camp like wildfire. There are enough guys here who aren't in good shape to begin with. I can't let anybody else catch this. Now, all of you get out."

From the look in the Colonel's eyes there would be no argument. Behind Hogan, Kinchloe nodded to the door significantly. Newkirk nodded back and herded LeBeau and stunned Carter out. Closing the door behind him, the RAF corporal leaned against it, suddenly very weary. "What ruddy bad luck."

LeBeau swore in French and Carter sat down at the table. "I don't know why we can't just take care of him. We don't need to let anybody else know," the young American sergeant declared.

Newkirk and LeBeau rolled their eyes.

In the other room, Robert Hogan sat on his bunk, looking down at the rough wooden floor. "God, Kinch. If I stay, I'll run the risk of infecting everybody. But I don't really want to go to some Kraut hospital." Hogan could not control of the tremor of fear in his voice.

"Maybe Klink will settle for a quarantine of these barracks," Kinch suggested.

Hogan met his gaze with fever bright eyes. "I'm not sure I can justify the risk, Kinch. I don't have the right to endanger everyone in camp."

"Let's not borrow trouble, sir. Take a shot of penicillin, get some rest and let's see what happens."

"Just for a short time, Kinch. In the meantime, keep everybody out of here. Including yourself. And be careful with any future meetings with Snow Cardinal's people; they might be infected as well. As for the operation, do what you can manage without too much risk. Klink will be suspicious enough when I'm not out there for roll call."

"Roger," Kinch said briskly. "I'll get the penicillin –"

"Not you, Kinch. You're in charge now, Sergeant. And after this, the rest of you keep out. I don't want to risk anybody else."

Kinchloe knew just how difficult it would be to enforce **that** order but he merely nodded. "Maybe we'll catch it early enough, Colonel. All these contingency plans won't be needed."

Hogan lay down wearily. "I hope so."

HH HH HH

Over some opposition, Peter Newkirk was elected to administer the shot to Colonel Hogan, having some previous experience subjecting an unwilling Sergeant Schultz to his medical skills for one of their capers.

The others waited in the large common room of the barracks until Newkirk came out of Hogan's room.

"How is he?" Andrew Carter asked eagerly.

Everyone groaned. "I've only just given him the shot, Andrew," Newkirk snapped. "I don't think it works that fast!"

"I just hope it works," Kinchloe said soberly. "You do realize that if you start feeling dicey, you're going to have to stay in there with him."

"It should be me," LeBeau put in flatly.

"You've got to cook the food that will make him strong again. You can't do it in his room," Kinch replied.

"It should be me," Carter said in a sulky tone. "I have nothing to do right now and I'm the most expendable."

"Blimey, you'd drive the governor batty with all your bloomin' natterin'!" Newkirk said irritably, lighting a cigarette.

"Well, at least I wouldn't poison him with smoke!" Carter shot back with uncharacteristic anger.

"Stop it!" Kinchloe was mad now and his glower stopped the arguing instantly. "Colonel Hogan is very ill and you all stand out here arguing like spoiled children! Now, listen up. I want this barracks cleared first thing in the morning."

A muted chorus of complaints died on the other guys' lips when they saw Kinch's look. "I'd move you tonight if I could for safety's sake but it would cause too much ruckus among the Krauts."

"What about Klink?" LeBeau asked quietly.

"I'll tell him the truth. Colonel Hogan is ill. But nobody mentions influenza. We don't know what it is. And we keep the Krauts out as well as everyone else."

"If we mention the mere possibility of the _Colonel_ being contagious it should keep the Bosche out, no problem," LeBeau said bitterly.

They all fell silent when they heard the sound of intense coughing behind Hogan's door. "I think I'll just get me kit, gents," Newkirk said soberly, getting up on his bunk and grabbing some personal items. "If any fraulein comes looking for me, I'll be available later."

"All right." Kinchloe was uneasy. Perhaps he should move these men out tonight. But if he did, the sense of urgency by this move would allow Klink to pack Hogan off to the hospital right away. And maybe that was the best? But, away from Stalag 13, he would be alone and unprotected.

LeBeau touched his arm. "He will be all right, _mon ami. Mon Colonel_ will recover and then we'll lead the filthy Bosche on a merry chase again."

Kinch moved away from the others and LeBeau with him. "He's scared, Louis. And I'm scared too. Wondering what will happen to all of us, if something happens to him. And sitting here, listening to him suffer…. It just doesn't sit right. Makes me feel helpless." Kinchloe suddenly sat down, at the head of the table where Hogan usually sat. "The one time the Colonel needs me and I can't do a damn thing for him."

"You are doing something, Kinch. Something extremely important." Newkirk said from his locker where he had moved to get the rest of his stuff for the bedside vigil. "You're going to hold everything together until he gets back on his feet."

"I hope so," Kinch replied softly. Now he remembered why he never wanted to be an officer.

HH HH HH

"Sergeant Kinchloe! Please tell me I'm not seeing what I'm not seeing? Please Sgt. Kinchloe! Where is Colonel Hogan and the Englander? Please tell me they've not run off with some frauleins!" Sergeant Schultz waved a pudgy hand in the air, distraught and distracted. "No, don't tell me! But what do I tell the Kommandant? He will kill me for this!"

"Relax, Schultz." Kinch hoped his voice matched his words to the big German sergeant. They stood out in the exercise yard in the freshly fallen snow, awaiting Kommandant Klink's appearance for roll call. Schultz had nearly had a heart attack when he saw the first two places of the front line empty.

"Yeah, Schultzie, it's all right. Colonel Hogan is a little under the weather and Newkirk is keeping him company. It's no big deal," LeBeau said dismissively.

"Ha!" Schultz said sullenly. "When the Big Shot sees Colonel Hogan missing, it will be a HUGE deal."

"Repooooort!" On cue, Colonel Wilhelm Klink stomped off the porch of his office, monocle already steaming up as he approached Sergeant Schultz.

"Herr Kommandant, I beg to report-"

"Schultz!" Klink stopped in place, like he had hit a cement wall. "Where is Colonel Hogan?"

"Herr Kommandant, I beg to-"

"If Hogan has escaped it will go hard on the rest of you!" Klink erupted in a mixture of fear and anger. He shuddered to think of what his superior, General Albert Burkhalter, would say if Hogan were truly gone. Gestapo Major Wolfgang Hochstetter would have a stroke and then the Kommandant's health would suffer too. Abruptly, Klink took off his monocle, wiped it and stuck it back in his eye. "Where is the Englander?"

Schultz was about to burst. "Herr Kommandant, I beg-"

Kinchloe could see everything was going to escalate if something wasn't said to Klink immediately. "Kommandant, what Sergeant Schultz is trying to say is that Colonel Hogan is a little under the weather this morning and Corporal Newkirk stayed inside in case he needed any help. They're both here, sir." Kinchloe added soothingly or so he hoped.

"It's a trick; another one of Hogan's little games!" Klink said suspiciously.

"No sir, it isn't. They are both inside."

"Well," Klink stomped one foot in the snow, "they may be here but they are not **here**, if you take my meaning. Colonel Hogan knows better than this; he cannot dismiss himself from roll call because he has a sniffle or a tummy ache. Get him and that annoying Englander Newkirk out here immediately!"

"Er, Kommandant, may I have a quick word with you in private, sir?" Kinch asked, acutely aware of the worried looks on Carter and LeBeau's faces.

Klink looked like he was about to object but decided to give in with ill grace. He moved away from the assembled men and Kinchloe with him. "Now, Sergeant Kinchloe. Let's hear it."

Kinch stared at Schultz, who was openly eavesdropping. Schultz moved away a couple of steps but not for long.

"Kommandant, we're not exactly sure what Colonel Hogan has yet. He thought it wise not to risk exposing you to the illness, sir. After all, we depend on you, sir. No one wanted to take unnecessary chances with your health."

Klink was so alarmed he didn't even acknowledge how precious the prisoners thought he was. "Sergeant, if Hogan has something contagious he must be quarantined and hospitalized immediately! I cannot risk an epidemic. Corporal Newkirk too, if he has been exposed to this illness." Klink suddenly took two steps back. "Sergeant, you have probably all been exposed by now!"

Schultz abruptly stepped back as well, looking at Kinch and the others like they were spewing germs by standing there.

LeBeau gave Schultz a glare and mouthed, 'No more strudel.' Schultz made a face back, from a safe distance, he hoped.

Kinchloe, however, could see everything slipping away and fast. "Sir, we don't know if this illness is catching. It may just be a severe cold." He took a huge chance and played his ace. "You could always take a look for yourself."

Klink blanched at the idea. "Well, I don't know. My safety, you know, is paramount to this camp."

"You're right, sir. We can't risk your health. Perhaps, Sgt. Schultz?"

"Yes, yes, that's right. Schultz!" Klink bellowed at the heavy set sergeant. "You go and check on Hogan and Newkirk."

"But, Herr Kommandant, then I will be exposed and then you will be exposed. You know me, I will spread it around everywhere I go. The whole camp will catch it." Schultz made his plea, complete with dramatic gestures.

"Very Wagnerian; next stop Valhalla." LeBeau grumbled, tired of standing around in the snow.

"What a Vagerian?" Carter asked, confused.

LeBeau rolled his eyes while Klink and Schultz argued. Again, Kinchloe interceded. "Kommandant, how about if Schultz just looks in from the doorway?"

Klink did not look happy but finally relented. "Oh all right. But Hogan must be better by tomorrow, Sergeant Kinchloe. No exceptions, no excuses."

"Of course, sir." Outside he tried to be impassive but inside Kinch nearly collapsed with relief. He exchanged salutes with Klink and the latter stomped off to his office. _Now it was up to the Colonel and Newkirk._

HH HH HH

"Here comes Schultz," Peter Newkirk shouted as he raced into Hogan's room. He stripped the extra blanket off the bunk and hurriedly thrust some cards in Hogan's hand.

Newkirk had barely sat down on a chair next to the bunk when the door cracked open. First the steel top of a German helmet appeared, then two bright blue eyes.

"Och, you boys are here," Schultz's voice came from behind the door.

"Schultzie, where did you think we were?" Newkirk asked irritably, while playing another card.

"Hi, Schultz," Hogan said a hoarse voice. He was lying down, studying his cards.

"Oh, Colonel Hogan, I can see you really are sick!" Schultz exclaimed, still hiding behind the door, taking care not to come into the room.

"Thanks, Schultz, I wasn't sure myself. Needed the confirmation." Hogan did indeed look awful; his face was flushed and he looked very ill.

"Is the Kommandant joining us, Schultz?" Newkirk asked pointedly.

Already they could hear Klink bellowing outside from his porch. "Repoooort, Schultz!"

"_Nein._ The big shot is too frightened to come in. I will tell him you boys are not up to any monkey business. This time at least. He will be pleased."

"Yeah, yeah. Well, you'd better go before the old Iron Eagle busts something yelling his bloomin' lungs out!"

"Yeah, yeah," Schultz rumbled. "I hope you feel better soon, Col. Hogan." He closed the door.

Newkirk made sure he was gone. Hogan dropped the cards and groaned, his teeth chattering and his body shivering violently. Newkirk put the extra blanket back on his commanding offer. While picking up the cards, he heard a soft knock at the door.

"Peter? It's Kinch. Everything all right?"

Newkirk cracked open the door, revealing the worried faces of Kinch, LeBeau and Carter. "How'd it go with ol' Klink?"

"Kinch was _magnifique_!" LeBeau said happily.

Kinchloe was more down to earth. "We've got another twenty four hours. After that we'll probably have to give him up."

Newkirk sighed. "I don't think we'll make that, Kinch. I've got Wilson's thermometer; the Colonel's temperature is 102. And we need some blankets; now he's freezing to death. Take the one off me bunk there."

"Oh, I'll get the blankets," LeBeau volunteered. "I'll make my nice chicken broth; it will soon warm _mon Colonel_ up." The small man bustled off.

"Silly Frenchie; right now the governor can't even swallow water," Newkirk said acidly.

Kinchloe, watching LeBeau and Carter round up blankets, sighed. "It gives him something to do. God, I wish Wilson were here," he said referring to the captured American medic who was usually present to serve their medical needs. But he was rushed over to Stalag 11, where a high ranking French officer needed immediate medical care. The Germans were short on medics themselves, due to the high causalities from the front.

"So do I, mate. So do I."


	2. Chapter 2 Discovery

James Kinchloe sat by the radio in the tunnels. It was almost check in time with London and Kinch had his supply list ready. He only wished he could order in a doctor.

There was a sound in the tunnel and moments later LeBeau and Carter dropped down off the ladder.

"Everything OK up top?" Kinch asked quickly.

LeBeau shook his head; the emotional Frenchman had tears in his eyes.

Carter answered. "Newkirk said the Colonel is burning up with fever. Temperature's up to 103."

Kinch lit a cigarette with a trembling hand. Things were spiraling out of control way too quickly. He felt bereft in a storm.

"The radio crackled to life. _"Goldilocks calling Papa Bear. Goldilocks to Papa Bear. Are you receiving?"_

Kinch stubbed out the cigarette and put on the headset. "This is Papa Bear, Goldilocks. We receive you fine."

"_How is Papa Bear tonight, Goldilocks? No more bad porridge, I hope," _the cultured British voice asked.

"Porridge still bad, Goldilocks. We need some refills of good porridge," Kinch said, using the code for penicillin.

"_Roger, Goldilocks, what else?"_

"Any chance of some medical help nearby? Kinch asked.

"_We could ask around but I'm afraid there is none close by. Perhaps in two days."_ The voice sounded regretful.

"Depending on the situation, I'll ask again." Kinchloe then read off the list he and Hogan had compiled a few days ago. When he finished he thought they were about to sign off when London said, _"By the way, Papa Bear. Bad news. Our friends say Snow Cardinal has gone away to a different nest."_

LeBeau and Carter wore stricken expressions. Kinch keyed the mike. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

The voice was deeply regretful. _"I'm afraid it does. Happened last night. Now the doctor who treated him has the ruddy stuff. Good luck, Papa Bear."_

Kinch, LeBeau and Carter all stared at each other with icy dread on their faces.

HH HH HH

_How could he be so hot and yet so cold at the same time?_

_The fire inside the Goldilocks collided with the freezing cold air that rushed in the shattered windshield of the crippled Flying Fortress. ME 109s and FWs swarmed the B17, like carrion birds circling a dying prey. Bullets rattled the plane and the noise was deafening. _

_Robert Hogan tried to reach the bailout bell to alert his crew to abandon the plane but he couldn't seem to locate it. He tried keying his throat mike to make an announcement but it was gone too. Turning to his copilot, Hogan was appalled to see Klink there, eyes wide with fright. Even the monocle had fallen out. _

_He will be useless, Hogan thought, resigned to the fact. He turned around to see Schultz stuck in the top turret. It should have been funny, for all that was visible of the big man was his waist and his legs. But Schultz's pleading was heartbreaking. "Save me, Colonel Hogan. You must save me!"_

_No matter how hard he tried, Hogan couldn't move._

_The plane began to shudder and break apart. With mounting horror, Hogan watched as first LeBeau, then Newkirk, flew out the waist gunner windows, cart wheeling into turbulent air. They both looked up at him as they plummeted to earth. _

_There was a grinding howl of metal breaking and the bottom suddenly dropped out. Looking down, Hogan saw the nose of the plane drop away, along with the terrified faces of Kinchloe and Carter looking back up at the cockpit. Carter seemed to be crying but trying not to show it. Kinchloe met Hogan's eyes and offered a final formal salute as they fell._

_Hogan sat stunned and briefly wondered why he was still flying. Glancing over to his copilot, he saw Klink still had not moved but now he had a small bullet hole in his head. Schultz too had ceased whimpering and the legs sticking out of the turret were slack. _

_Robert Hogan turned away from the carnage, sick to his stomach, which seemed to be on fire internally. _

_Looking down he saw a large swastika on the earth below. Hogan did not take the time to marvel at the sight. He put what was left of the Fortress in a dive straight at the symbol of Nazi Germany. "I'll be there soon, fellas," he whispered._

HH HH HH

Peter Newkirk heaved a sigh of relief when Col. Hogan limply fell back on his bunk. The Governor had been fighting him all the way and Newkirk was exhausted just struggling with him. Hogan was soaked in sweat and Newkirk himself was flushed and quite warm. He sat down on the wooden chair and dipped another cloth in water. As he placed it on Hogan's forehead, there was a soft knocking at the door.

Wearily, the English corporal went over and opened the door a crack. James Kinchloe stood on the other side, LeBeau and Carter close behind him. "How is he?"

Newkirk swallowed. "It's not good, gents. His temperature is up to 104."

Kinchloe sagged. LeBeau crossed himself and Carter looked stricken. "We'll have to get him a doctor then," Kinch said slowly.

Newkirk looked troubled. "Kinch, mate, I don't know if we should."

LeBeau immediately bristled. "What are you saying?"

Newkirk jerked a thumb back into the room. "He's off his head. Delirious. He's talked about his missions, his plane, us … and the tunnels."

Kinch looked even more desolate. "Oh no."

"We can't just let him die." Carter spoke up for the first time. "I mean, is that going to stop us? We sacrifice him because of that."

"Carter's right." LeBeau broke the grim silence that followed Carter's question. "We cannot let _mon Colonel_ die."

"A lot of guys are paying the ultimate price right now," Kinchloe observed. "If we try to save him, it will probably mean giving up the operation."

LeBeau shrugged. "Without _mon Colonel_ there is no operation to give up."

"I think we're overlooking the fact that if the Governor talks, Hochstetter or some other Gestapo goon will torture him and then it's off to a quiet unmarked grave," Newkirk said soberly.

"We could take him to the Underground," Carter said in an excited, happy I have an idea voice.

"We'd risk infecting everyone we meet. They might not want to risk it," Kinchloe said.

"Tiger would," LeBeau replied sharply. Everyone knew of the blond Frenchwoman's strong attraction to Colonel Hogan.

"Her people might not go along with it though," Newkirk observed.

"I heard Klink tell Schultz that Wilson should be back in two days," Carter announced.

"Klink's deadline is tomorrow morning," Kinch reminded them.

"Look, I don't think there's really much more that Wilson can do that. I've already given him the medicine we have. It may just be a question of waiting it out." Newkirk fidgeted; he wanted a cigarette so badly. "But if we can't stall ol' Klink one more day, I say we should go tonight. Hide out somewhere, until the Governor gets better, then go home to England." Newkirk left unsaid any suspicion that Hogan would not get better.

"I don't know what London will say." Kinch said slowly, the burdens of command decision making weighing heavily. _How come it usually seemed so easy when Hogan was doing the deciding?_

"The hell with London," LeBeau declared vehemently. "_Mon Colonel_ has done enough. And so have we."

Carter looked nervous. "They're not gonna like that."

Newkirk met Kinch's eyes. "At least the Governor would still be alive."

Kinchloe sighed. _God, I hope this is the right move._ "All right, we'll try it. We'll try and stall Klink for one more day and then move out tomorrow night." He turned to LeBeau and Carter. "You know the drill. Gather what we'll need, destroy everything else. Carter, you wire the tunnels."

The two nodded agreement and left. Kinch continued to worry.

Looking at his expression, Newkirk said, "There's really no choice, mate. Not if we want to save the Colonel."

"I keep thinking about the guys we leave behind here. The Krauts will take it out on them, you can be sure of that."

Newkirk sagged. "I know. Lord, I know. But should we sacrifice Colonel Hogan for them?"

Kinch gave him a sharp look. "I know what he would choose."

"Yeah, I know. But that's why we sometimes have to look after him, innit?"

Kinch managed a smile at that. But it faded when he looked, **really** looked at the tired man in front of him. "Peter, you look a little flushed. Are you all right?"

Newkirk nodded wearily. "Just tired, mate. And I could murder for a cigarette."

Kinch continued to search the Englishman's face. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Look, the Colonel's givin' off enough heat right now to warm Buckingham Palace. It's a bit toasty, that's all."

"I want you to take a shot of penicillin as well. Just to be sure."

"Oh no, that's for the Governor. And that blighter Snow Cardinal. How is he, by the way?"

Kinchloe looked grim. "I'm afraid he's dead, Newkirk."

The Englishman looked stricken as Kinch left to get the penicillin.

HH HH HH

In the shadows between the barracks in the early morning darkness, a very young RAF corporal waited. As usual, he was terrified; the constant state of his life ever since this blighted war had begun. If Adolf had stayed where he belonged, Corporal Samuel Powers would be in his second year at university, making Mum proud and escaping his domineering father. Patriotic duty was forced on him, as there was no place in England for a healthy young man to be walking around without a uniform on. With no choice, he joined the RAF and his Lancaster was shot down on its first mission. He'd been marooned in this godforsaken Stalag 13 ever since. He had wanted to do his duty, at least enough to placate his father but he never bargained on something as dreary and frightening as a POW camp. Every day was a terror.

Finally, Corporal Schmidt came around the corner, stopped in surprise and pointed his rifle at the RAF corporal. "You, Englander! It is _verboten_ to be out of the barracks! Get back now!"

"Take it easy, Jerry. I'm going to do you a favor. You'll be a big man with the Kommandant when I'm done."

Schmidt, one of the few guards who was fairly proficient in English, looked suspicious. "What is it?"

"One of my mates in Barracks 2 –"

"Newkirk?" Schmidt didn't hide his distrust; he'd fallen victim to _Englander_'s pranks before.

"No, not him. Can't stand the cheeky blighter. That young American, Peterson. Only arrived a couple of weeks ago." The corporal lowered his voice. "He tells me that Yank colonel has influenza."

"_Mein Gott!_" Schmidt's eyes grew large. "I lost a brother to that after the last war."

"I lost an aunt and cousin. That's why I'm scared and I'm not taking any chances. The Colonel's men are protecting him; they don't want the Kommandant to find out."

Schmidt started to leave but the Corporal grabbed his arm. "Don't tell Schultz, Jerry."

"My name is not Jerry." The German guard said stiffly.

"Mine isn't Englander either, chap, but that's not important now. Sgt. Schultz is too chummy with that Barracks 2 bunch. Tell Mueller."

The corporal started to walk off but loitered long enough to see Schmidt find Mueller, confer and then both head for the Kommandant's quarters.

The young Corporal sighed. He'd only done what was best for the camp. No one, not even a hot shot Yank Colonel, could be allowed to start an epidemic. He told himself he'd done the right thing. Chaps would be thanking him in a few days.

So why did he suddenly feel so guilty_? _Instead of righteous relief, Powers suddenly felt even more uneasy and alone than before.

HH HH HH

"You should have informed me about Colonel Hogan, Sergeant Kinchloe. I cannot risk exposing the entire camp to influenza for the sake of one man. I know you are not an officer but you should know better than that." Colonel Wilhelm Klink spoke with a mixture of reproach, fear and anger to the sergeant who stood silently at the head of the prisoners who inhabited _Barracke _2.

Colonel Robert Hogan lay on a stretcher carried outside by two German orderlies wearing masks. Kinchloe could not tell if Hogan was aware of what was happening or not. He had been unresponsive for most of the previous night. The Colonel's face was almost completely covered by the blanket and he was unmoving.

"Are you listening to me, Sgt. Kinchloe?" Klink continued in his grating voice. "After this, I doubt that I can allow you to take Col. Hogan's place as liaison for the prisoners. I shall have to get another officer in here.

Some of the men called out encouragement as Hogan was loaded into the ambulance. Sergeant Schultz and the other German guards kept the men well back. The rest of the prisoners were confined to their barracks.

Kinchloe stood by silently. He slowly lifted his hand in a salute, quickly followed by LeBeau, Carter and the rest of the men of Barracks 2.

Peter Newkirk came out under guard. He returned the salute and shouted cheekily, "Don't worry, mates, we'll be back." The guards tried to hurry Newkirk along but were hampered by the fact they didn't want to get too close to the infected man. Finally they got Newkirk into the waiting ambulance; shut the doors and the vehicle roared off.

Kinchloe wearily dropped his arm and finally deigned to look at Colonel Klink. "We didn't know for sure if it was influenza, sir. As far as getting some other officer in here, don't. Colonel Hogan will be back."

Klink shook his head, eyes sad. "Sergeant, you must be realistic. Millions died from influenza just after the Great War. It is still a dangerous disease."

Kinch bit his lip; no way could he tell Klink about the penicillin. And maybe it wouldn't be enough anyway. One question remained however. "Why are you so sure its influenza, sir? No doctor has examined the Colonel yet."

Klink gave Kinch a steely look, enhanced by the monocle. "Because there was one man in camp who thought more of public safety than personal loyalty. **You** knew it was influenza, Sergeant. Your personal loyalty to Colonel Hogan is to be commended but sometimes you must consider the greater good. I know you're not an officer, so it is hard for you to grasp that concept but you must try," Klink finished pompously.

Kinchloe gave Klink a hard look that few people would have credited him with. Red hot anger warred with suspicion as he struggled to control his suddenly raging temper. "I don't suppose the Kommandant would care to tell me who this public spirited person is. I would like to thank him personally."

Klink wagged a finger in Kinch's face. "Sergeant, I'm not going to fall for that. I can see by your face that you still do not grasp the total situation. I am a command trained officer; you must know that you cannot hope to outthink me."

Any reply Kinch might have made was mercifully interrupted by Schultz. "Herr Kommandt, the ambulance has left."

"I can see that, _dumkopf._ Be sure and keep the men from _Barracke 2_ from the rest of the camp. We must make certain that the illness has not spread. Sergeant Kinchloe, I will get another officer in here to speak for the prisoners. Dismissed!" With an emphatic stomp in his walk, Klink went off to his office. Fraulein Hilda retreated from the office window, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Klink did pause for a quick glance at the gate where the ambulance had departed and stood silently, before going inside.

Schultz lumbered over to where Kinchloe still stood, a sad look on his perpetually hangdog face. "I am sorry about Colonel Hogan. Och, what trouble he could get into! Always a jolly joker!"

"He's not dead yet, Schultz!" Kinch snapped.

Schultz shook his head. "Perhaps it was not so bad in America. But influenza killed many people here after the Great War. You cannot take chances with it, even for Col. Hogan."

Kinch was tired of hearing it. The fact it might be true grated on his nerves even more. "You're taking a big chance right now, Schultz. I might be infected and just standing here could give it to you."

Schultz threw up his hands in horror. "You must not say such things, Kinchloe! It is bad luck. Now you and the other men must go back inside. I must have roll call for the other barracks."

As Schultz continued to shoo him back to the barracks, Kinch obsessed over who might have given the game away to the Krauts. He shouldn't have frightened Schultz; now he'd get nothing from him except the old 'I know nothing' routine. His expression lightened however when he saw LeBeau approaching. Schultz loved LeBeau or at least his strudel. _LeBeau would get answers._


	3. Chapter 3 Deconstruction of Stalag 13

It wasn't too difficult for an experienced hand like Peter Newkirk to gain entry to the Hammelburg hospital and help himself to a lab coat and clipboard. They'd separated him from the Colonel upon arrival here. Newkirk had been sent to some rest camp to do menial chores, isolated from others. It didn't take long to discover the camp was for those too badly wounded to recover completely. Evidently it didn't matter to _Der Fuehrer_ if those men got influenza or not. Newkirk truly didn't feel very good for the first couple of days. But under the weight of exhaustion, he finally got some good nights' sleep and he began to feel better. Good enough to slip out one night and head for Hammelburg.

The huge hospital was in chaos; a flood of victims from nearby cities being deluged with Allied bombs bore stark witness to the collapse of the _Luftwaffe._ This combined with the torrent of wounded back from the front made the hospital a mass of humanity and chaos. All of this made if fairly easy to walk around freely but it also complicated the mission of finding Hogan. After nearly an hour of wandering around, Newkirk stumbled across a small area at the very end of the hall. The armed guard standing in the corridor was a sign this wasn't where they took the brave, wonderful, wounded Kraut soldiers, Newkirk thought bitterly. He nodded briefly at the guard and asked for a fictitious doctor. The guard, a hardened man whose left arm did not work properly, merely grunted _nein_ and turned away. Newkirk responded with a gesture at the man's back.

As luck would have it, he found a small storage closet, filled with glasses, trays and blankets. Newkirk was able to get inside without attracting the guards' notice. He settled in to await developments.

About half an hour later, Newkirk was delighted with another stroke of luck. A new _Wehrmacht _soldier came on, talking to the original guard. Newkirk peeped out, cracking the door a sliver. The two talked for a bit, then with a final admonition, the guard relinquished his gun and stomped down the hallway. Newkirk indulged in a silent chortle when he observed the new guard make the same gesture at the man's back. The new guard was a kid, a boy really, and the Englishman wasted no time in talking his way in.

Newkirk crept into the darkened room. There were two beds, both under small semi circles of yellow light. Robert Hogan lay in the far bed, eyes closed. His face was as pale as the pillowcase under him. There was an IV in his arm. Newkirk moved quietly closer when a gruff voice called out.

"What the hell are you doing here? Haven't your lot questioned that poor chap enough?"

Newkirk turned to an angry young man in the first bed. "Mate, you're English!"

The man's eyes narrowed. "I say, it sounds like you are too. Or you're the Gestapo trying a new tactic on us."

"I'm not, old boy," Newkirk replied, copying the man's upper crust tone. "I'm taking a chance that you aren't either. I'm here to check up on your roommate. How's he doing?"

"Who the devil are you anyway?"

"Peter Newkirk, corporal, RAF."

"Oh. Well, here's hoping you aren't Jerry in disguise. I'm Major Peter Stanley, RAF."

The two exchanged handshakes. "Beg pardon, Major, but I am rather anxious about Colonel Hogan," Newkirk said quickly.

"Anxious not to get caught here either, right?" Stanley observed.

"Right, sir."

"As far as I can tell, I think he's getting a bit better, although the times he's been awake he's been very guarded around me. Quite understandable. Sometimes they keep him drugged through the day; that's why he's not responding right now. But the Gestapo usually show up at night and have a go at questioning him. They seem to think he knows a lot about what's going on in the sabotage department."

Newkirk wandered over next to Hogan and touched his shoulder lightly. "Don't worry, governor, I won't be far off. I promise." He turned back to Stanley. "But he is getting proper medical care?" _Lord, the guv'nor looks awful. Gaunt and unshaven, he looked anything but a cocky Yank colonel now._

"Yes, Jerry seems very keen on that. For now at least. It's getting harder for them; they have so many casualties coming in. Resources are strained."

Newkirk paused to study Major Stanley. Younger than he'd first thought and obviously upper crust. The kind Newkirk despised any other time in his life. "When do you expect the Gestapo back?"

"Well, I'd guess in about an hour or so. They like to wake up him and then see if they can shake him into some careless remark." Stanley paused a moment then added admiringly, "So far they've had no luck with him at all."

"And they won't," Newkirk added spiritedly. "What about you, mate?"

For the first time, Stanley was uncomfortable. "Nothing about me, mate."

"What?" Uneasily, Newkirk finally let himself see the desolate look on the young major's face.

"See here, chap, I'm dying. Bad crash you know; insides are scrambled, among other things. They don't care if I get the damned influenza or not. They've pumped me so full of drugs, I should be comatose. But I'm not. My body's dying but I feel so…. alive."

For the first time, Newkirk noticed all the equipment around Stanley and the tent where the right leg should have been. Suddenly it all fell into place. "What I can do for you, Major?"

"I know it's a bit dangerous… for you to stay, I mean. And I won't ask about your relationship with the Yank there. Better that I not know, in case something slips. But if you could, stay a bit. Talk to me of England."

Newkirk nodded and drew up a chair. "England, then."

Stanley smiled, although it was a bit strained. "Yes, England." He thought a moment. Perhaps a quick note to my wife?"

"Of course, mate." Newkirk scrounged up some paper and a newly stolen pen.

HH HH HH

The atmosphere in Stalag 13 should have gotten better since Colonel Hogan had been taken to the hospital, Wilhelm Klink observed. Instead, it was worse than ever. The three remaining members of Hogan's inner circle were the culprits and should probably be separated. Klink expected problems from LeBeau; the little cockroach was French and therefore hysterical most of the time anyway. Young Carter moped around and talked incessantly of his pet mouse. Not for the first time, Klink wondered if Carter was all there, mentally speaking. But it was Sergeant Kinchloe who surprised and worried Klink the most. Normally the most even tempered and rational of men, Kinchloe had instead turned into a sullen, driven man who haunted the exercise yard still looking for the man who'd turned Colonel Hogan in. No matter how many times Klink warned him, Kinchloe was still at it.

Klink reluctantly lay down his latest copy of Wild Willful Frauleins and went to look out his window. His monocle fell out at what he saw.

HH HH HH

"Powers!"

Corporal Samuel Powers nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned and saw that big Yank sergeant, Kinchloe, bearing down on him in the exercise yard. The black man looked like he hadn't slept in a week. His two little shadows, LeBeau and Carter, trailed behind.

Powers attempted to keep his voice even and relaxed even though his heart was racing. "What is it, Sergeant?"

Kinchloe stood in front of him, towering over him. "Peterson told me."

Despite the fact his heart was pounding in fear, Powers acted nonchalant. "Told you what, Sergeant?"

"Told us you were the big mouth who told the _Bosche_ about Colonel Hogan," LeBeau hissed angrily.

"Yeah, Peterson thought he could trust you. Thought we were all on the same side," Carter added.

"I just wanted to know what your excuse was before I take you apart," Kinchloe said angrily.

Powers, though frightened, was also angry. "Look, just because you chaps want to die for Colonel Hogan doesn't mean the rest of us do. I haven't found anyone worth dying over in this bloody war!"

Smug righteousness coming from what he saw as a coward was too much for Kinchloe. He lashed out with his fist, catching Powers right in the nose. Powers was not match for Kinchloe but another RAF man took offense to a Yank hitting a fellow Englishman. Suddenly things escalated out of control as the brawl spread. Guards blew their whistles, sirens went off, men fought in the middle of the yard and Schultz ran around shouting ineffectually for everyone to stop. Klink rushed out into the yard but was knocked down by one of his own men rushing to stop the fight.

It was during this chaos that the Gestapo car came through the front gates.

HH HH HH

The Gestapo ruled with an iron hand and not even General Burkhalter, had he been so inclined, could stop the changes. Colonel Wilhelm Klink was relieved of command. He and Sergeant of the Guard, Hans Schultz, also relieved, were to await new orders sending them to an active front in the war. Sergeant James Kinchloe, identified as the attacker in the brawl, was transferred out to another Stalag. The new Kommandant, Major Von Reuter, took over and immediately transferred Corporal Louis LeBeau out after charging him with insolence. Sergeant Andrew Carter followed later, the charge being failure to obey a guard. Suddenly Stalag 13 was a different place entirely.

HH HH HH

James Kinchloe threw his gear down on the narrow wooden bunk in some disgust. Compared to this Stalag 13 was the Hotel Roosevelt. Wind whistled through the cracks and the air was damp and oppressive. "This is going to be jolly." He muttered to himself, borrowing one of Newkirk's posh accents.

He almost started berating himself, again, for letting his temper get away from him. Colonel Hogan would not have lost his head like that. The Colonel would have thought up some diabolical scheme to nail that little rat Powers.

But Kinch's bad judgment had been compounded by bad luck when the Gestapo showed up at the same time the brawl had gotten completely out of control. Still, Kinch thought the timing a bit suspicious; one lapse, a big one to be sure, and suddenly Klink was out and some new guy in. Kinch knew the Krauts had been looking for something on Klink for years but this seemed awfully fast.

The door opened, letting in a little light and a lot of cold air. Three black American prisoners spotted Kinchloe and approached. "So, you're Sergeant Kinchloe?" The first one spoke, wearing a corporal's stripe.

As the tone was anything but friendly and not accompanied by a salute, Kinch was guarded in his reply. "That's right."

"We've heard about you," the smallest man said snidely. "Heard you were busy playin'Uncle Tom to some big shot white officer over at Stalag 13. We just wanted to let you know there ain't no officer here, white or otherwise, for you to hide behind. You're just one of us here. Ain't got nothin' and won't ever have nothin'."

"You're right. But I'd still be a sergeant and you three will be a corporal and two airmen, right?"

The three exchanged an uneasy look. "OK, wise guy. Now we know." The corporal decided to tough it out. "You have been hanging around white officer trash too long. You got uppity ways."

Kinch stood up straighter and moved closer to the three, who immediately moved back. "Aren't you boys doing what we always complain about the whites doing? Lumping us all in one group, good or bad?"

Getting three blank looks in return, Kinchloe sighed. "As none of you outrank me and we're still in this army, I'll thank you to mind your own business."

The three stumbled away sullenly, the corporal looking mutinous but not enough to openly challenge Kinch.

The Sergeant shook his head and put away his meager belongings. His bunk was naturally in the coldest, darkest part of the building.

By the time he'd finished, two white men approached him, both wearing US army sergeant's stripes. "We heard about you over at Stalag 13," the oldest one said. "We just want you to know your place; we don't want no uppity black men around here."

Kinch's already frayed patience was beginning to wane. "What's your date of rank, sergeants?"

Both were taken aback at the question but force of habit compelled them to answer.

"June, 1942."

"March 1943."

"Mine is February of 1942. So I'll thank both of you to know **your** place. Now get out of here; from what I've seen so far, your military discipline stinks."

The two left, muttering amongst themselves, thoroughly routed.

Bitterly, Kinch sat down on the bunk. Stalag 4 was a dump populated by losers of all colors.

Suddenly the war seemed endlessly long.

HH HH HH

"Filthy _Bosche_! I should have poisoned you all when I had the chance!"

Louis LeBeau shouted angrily from his cell as his two self-satisfied guards strolled away, grinning and uncaring. They did not understand LeBeau's French and they did not consider the small French prisoner much of a threat.

LeBeau collapsed on the rock hard bunk, unshed tears burning his eyes. It was all so frustrating! After the fight, he had been taken soon after to Stalag 10. Not even a chance to say _au revoir_ to Kinchloe and Carter. Everything had fallen apart so fast. The Colonel and Newkirk taken away, Kinchloe learning the identity of the informer and then the fight in the yard. LeBeau's last glimpse of Stalag 13 was of a despondent Klink and Schultz hauling their gear to the car. By their expressions, LeBeau knew they were bound for the front, somewhere. Probably in Russia he supposed.

The Frenchman immediately quashed any thought of pity however. _It was all that idiot Klink's fault. If he had left mon Colonel and Newkirk with their friends, none of this would have happened. But no. The old Bald Eagle had to become a public spirited health monitor and now all was ruined._

He wondered if Kinch had finished with that traitorous RAF corporal by the time the Krauts had pulled him off. LeBeau could admit now that even he had been secretly a bit frightened of their radio operator's rage when he learned the identity of the informer. Kinchloe was always cool and in control. He had even calmed Colonel Hogan down on occasion.

LeBeau knew that Kinch took Powers' informing as a personal insult. They had all felt an obligation to watch Colonel Hogan's back but Kinch took it as a sacred duty. The Sergeant was a quiet man. He had quickly become the Colonel's right hand man. Hogan once joked that Kinch was probably the most military of them all. LeBeau realized now just how much of a strain Kinch had been under, to blow up like that at Powers.

LeBeau shrugged into his coat and pulled the thin coarse blanket around him. "Lousy Krauts" he muttered.

Since arriving at Stalag 10, LeBeau had spent more time in the cooler than his assigned barracks. The guards here, while not malicious, were not the tolerant types of Stalag 13. LeBeau hadn't particularly liked any of his new barracks mates and the trouble had started from there.

But sitting the cooler gave him plenty of time to think and worry. He wondered about Newkirk. _Please God Pierre was not sick too._

What had happened to Kinchloe and Carter? LeBeau hoped at least his two American colleagues had been allowed to stay together.

And what of _mon Colonel_ ? LeBeau prayed nightly that he would recover. Hogan should be sent home after this; London owed it to him. He had done more than enough in this war.

Also, LeBeau just prayed that they would all survive this war to see each other again one day.

HH HH HH

"What'cha doin', Andrew?"

Airman Pete Bell sat down next to Sergeant Carter on a bench outside the barracks. The sunshine was weak and watery and the day chill but it was still better than being inside.

Carter was holding his customary two tin plates up next to his face. "I'm trying to get a tan, like those Hollywood guys. That way I'll look good when I get home to Mary Jane." Carter paused, "Oh, I forgot. Mary Jane got herself a new guy."

"Oh, that's tough. My Betty promised to wait for me and that's what she'd better do. Or else….," Pete floundered for a bit as he pondered the 'or else.'

Andrew considered his new best friend. Compared to Petey, Carter felt worldly wise. "Sometimes girls don't mean what they say," he said sadly. "I know."

"Not my Betty," Pete maintained stoutly.

Carter looked at him almost pityingly. "You'll find out, one way or the other, I guess."

"Hey, look. Here are our KP specialists. And expert latrine diggers." Sergeant Seldon of the American Army Air Corp, strolled by, accompanied by his two toadies, Corporal Jonas of the Free French and Corporal Patterson of the RAF. "We need you both; the Krauts want volunteers for KP duty. Find Sergeant Mahler and get shakin'."

With a resigned sigh, Bell started to stand but Carter caught his arm. "This is five days in a row we've been on KP duty. Why is it always us?"

Seldon looked ominous. "Why what, Carter?"

Carter swallowed. "Why us, sir?"

"Well, because you asked so nicely, it's because I'm the senior sergeant here and I'm in charge. You should be used to taking orders since you had a full colonel in your last camp. I'm sure he didn't dirty his lily white hands digging latrines!"

"No, because he got the Krauts to do it," Carter retorted.

Seldon was nonplussed. "He what?"

Carter was about to launch into a detailed explanation of life in Stalag 13 when Seldon waved him off. "Never mind. Just go report to Mahler, on the double."

Carter reluctantly put down his plates and he, with Bell, moved to where Mahler was assembling his work detail. Seldon said something as they walked away and his two compatriots laughed.

"This isn't right," Carter seethed. "We had kitchen duty all last week and three days the week before that. The only time I haven't done KP is the first week I was here."

"The Army sure isn't what I thought it would be," Pete mourned. "I wanted to shoot some Krauts out of the sky; instead I end up washing their dishes."

"Well, I've had enough," Carter said, almost without realizing he'd spoken aloud.

"What'cha goin' do? There would just be a Sergeant Seldon wherever you go," Pete pointed out.

"No, there isn't. Colonel Hogan rarely had us doing this. And Sergeant Kinchloe was nothing like Seldon. He never pushed anyone around."

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway. You're stuck here with the rest of us."

"No. I'm leavin'. Tonight. Come with me, Pete."

Carter had stopped and Pete did too. "Andrew, I don't want the Krauts to shoot you."

"They won't; a nice exploding building is a great distraction. Come on, Petey, come with me."

"No, no, I can't," Pete insisted, his face a mixture of fear and uncertainty.

"Well, you can still change your mind." Carter was saddened but resolute, his mind mentally listing the items he'd need for the explosion.

That night a storage shed exploded at Stalag 11. Nobody was hurt but in the melee one prisoner escaped. Another prisoner kicked himself for not taking a chance.


	4. Chapter 4 Colonel Hogan Returns

There was no one out in the exercise yard of Luft Stalag 13 on a bitterly cold, gray day when the truck stopped in front of the Komandant's office. Many faces crowded around the barracks windows however and all avidly watched as Kommandant Major Hans Von Reuter stepped out smartly, accompanied by Sergeant of the Guard Klaus Kleiner. SS guards spilled out the back of the truck and a small jeer was raised amongst the POWs when Major Hochstetter of the Gestapo came out, accepting the salutes of Von Reuter and Kleiner.

A loud cheer went up however, when, at last, the guards reluctantly helped Colonel Robert Hogan down from the back of the truck. Wearing hand cuffs and leg irons, Hogan was hardly in any condition to escape. There was a collective moan when the prisoners saw how fragile and worn their commanding officer looked.

"Blimey! I've never seen him so thin!" An RAF airman exclaimed.

"Even for this climate, he's far too pale," a French corporal remarked.

"He'll probably demand to be transferred to a soft officer's camp now," another Frenchman sniffed.

"He wouldn't do that!" an American airman hotly objected.

Cooler heads prevailed as the other turned back to watching the Gestapo take the chains off Hogan. Hochstetter hovered over every step. Men cheered when Hogan, hands free at last, sent Hochstetter off with a supposed salute that seemed more like a wave of dismissal. Since Hogan never saluted the SS, everyone knew it was a get lost wave. After a final snarl, Hochstetter got back into the truck with his goons and Kleiner escorted Hogan to Von Reuter. All three went into the office.

The prisoners turned away from the windows abuzz with what they had observed. Some argued that all would be well now that the Colonel had returned. Some worried that the illness might have sapped his strength permanently. The new prisoners, along with some cynical old timers, felt that one man wouldn't be able to change much of the conditions around anyway. The cynics also advised the newcomers that Colonel Hogan was the cause of the trouble a good deal of the time. All of his shenanigans never amounted to anything at all. Sergeant Richard Baker, a young radioman whom Kinchloe had groomed to spell him in the tunnels on the radio, started to object when Sergeant Tom Olsen quickly shook his head.

"They don't know **anything**," he said meaningfully.

Baker was confused. "But why?"

Olsen was one of the earliest members of Hogan's group. "Couldn't be sure about them. Too risky."

Baker shook his head. "Great. And Von Reuter just moved these guys in here with us at Barracks 2."

"Not by accident, I think," Olsen said he moved away from the chattering group by the table.

Baker moved also. "You've been here longer; how do you think Colonel Hogan looks?"

Sighing, Olsen replied, "Tired. Really tired. God, I hate to lay all of this on him when he comes in."

"Maybe we could wait until morning?" Baker suggested.

Olsen gave him a look. "What do you think?"

Baker shrugged. "It was only an idea. I didn't say how good or practical it was."

HH HH HH

Robert Hogan collapsed on his bunk that night, head pounding, body aching and stomach rebelling from the disgusting mush the Krauts called potato soup.

But most of all, Hogan felt overwhelmed.

It was a rare feeling for a man who almost always had an answer or a scheme for everything. Instead his mind was reeling. Sergeants Baker and Olsen filled him in on what had transpired at Stalag 13 since his forced departure. That Colonel Klink would trip up and get caught was almost a given. Unfortunately the same was true of Schultz. _Two babes in the wilderness._ But Kinchloe transferred out for fighting? Hot tempered LeBeau yes, but not Kinch. The radioman was just too smart for that. And what had happened to Carter? Carter was easy prey for a devious, unprincipled person and this Von Reuter and Kleiner were oily characters. It didn't take long to figure that out. And what had happened to his faithful nurse, Peter Newkirk, who slipped away from the rest camp he was assigned to and never seen again. Although one night at the hospital Hogan had the strangest feeling that Newkirk was there.

Hogan sincerely hoped Newkirk was back in England, enjoying his birds and his pints. God knew he deserved them.

Opening his eyes, Colonel Hogan found himself studying the bottom of the bunk above in his old quarters. It was just as he knew it would be; he remembered every single detail. He also felt a wave of depression wash over him. He'd been here so long already, it seemed.

There was so much to do, so much to learn about the new Krauts. What had happened to their Underground contacts? What about London? From what Baker had guardedly told him, they didn't dare risk the tunnels. Hogan was dismayed to see a handful of troublemakers back in Barracks 2, along with a few of brand new men who were still in the shell shocked stage of the just captured.

Head aching, Hogan closed his eyes again. _It was too much. Just too much for one man. And he was so very tired._

He missed LeBeau, Carter, Newkirk and Kinchloe with an almost physical longing for their presence.

Robert Hogan eventually fell into an uneasy sleep complete with weird and disjointed dreams. The last dream woke him with a muffled shout; kindly old Schultz being shot by a firing squad.

HH HH HH

A small group of men stood by a trash barrel fire after roll call, watching as Colonel Hogan shuffled inside the barracks. Hogan moved slowly as if he had no strength at all. Once again, he had failed to respond to Major von Reuter's gibes and insults about the inferior Allies and the hopelessness of their cause. The men, waiting for some flash of the old Hogan wit, were bitterly disappointed.

Hogan had been back nearly a week now and some of his staunchest defenders were beginning to have their doubts.

"It's like part of him hasn't come back," Corporal Wright remarked sadly. "God, I hate to think the Krauts have finally broken him."

"The Krauts haven't broken him!" Sgt. Baker flared. "He's been deathly ill and he's tired and weak. He needs rest and some real food. Not the slop the Krauts feed us."

Sgt. Olsen glanced at the Kommandant's office in time to see a blond head quickly turn away from the window. "Poor Fraulein Hilda. She's waited all this time to see Colonel Hogan and now she can't even talk to him. Ol' Von Reuter keeps her as much a prisoner as us, I think."

Sergeant Gleason stirred restlessly as he held his hands out to the fire. "I don't see what we're doing standing out here in the cold, worrying about some German broad. We've got real problems of our own here."

Olsen shrugged. "I was just talking."

"Maybe we should get the Colonel and Hilda together," Wright suggested acidly. "One evening with her would put the spring back in his steps."

Hostile glares surrounded by the brash young man. "Is that what you think is wrong with the Colonel? He's just moping for Hilda?" Olsen demanded angrily.

"If so, you should go join them over there," Baker hissed, pointing at a larger prisoner contingent at a neighboring fire barrel. "They're all writing him off too!"

Wright took a step back, a bit shaken by his comrades' vehemence. "Hey, look, I didn't mean anything." He kicked the ground forlornly. "I just hoped everything would be right again when the Colonel got back."

"Maybe he can charge into the Kraut guns for you, kid," Gleason snarled.

"Why don't you get off my back?" Wright demanded angrily.

"Hey, cool, it, cool it," Baker said in a low voice as some of the guards turned to look.

All four pasted on blank looks and walked slowly back to the barracks under the watchful eyes of the German guards.

HH HH HH

Robert Hogan lay shivering on is hard narrow bunk. He had fallen into a bad habit. At night he was unable to sleep, his mind churning over various plots and schemes. By the next morning however, he was wrung out and still exhausted, unable to think.

He hadn't managed to concoct an excuse to get rid of the malcontents in Barracks 2. Hogan was well aware that confidence in him was beginning to wane; many men were having doubts. Hogan felt the only two he could really rely on right now were Olsen and Baker. He needed to get a core group he could trust with anything, just like before.

Hogan knew he could never just sit out the war as a prisoner. He would continue to fight back until London recalled him or the Krauts got him. He just needed to get going.

There was a very soft tapping sound at his window. Hogan froze, wondering if he was hearing things. But the quiet tapping resumed, so he got up and opened the window to the wintry night.

"_Guten abend, Herr Oberst_." Corporal Karl Langenscheidt said with a wide smile.

"Langenscheidt! Where have you been? You weren't shipped out with Klink and Schultz?"

"_Nein, Herr Oberst_, At least," the young Corporal's face darkened, "not yet. I have been on leave; my _Mutter_ has been very ill. But she is better now and so I have returned. I do not know for how long though. I am told Major Von Reuter does not wish to keep any of Colonel Klink's men."

Hogan was silent for a moment. He knew Langenscheidt was waiting for some reassurance that this would not happen but Hogan did not feel he could offer false promises. But with the hopeful expression fading in the young man's face, Hogan didn't feel right about that either. "Look, Corporal, I don't know what I can do about this mess but you have my word I'm going to try."

The sun figuratively broke over Langenscheidt's face and the young man grinned. _"Jawohl, Herr Oberst._ I know you will think of something."

Hogan suppressed a groan. _Yeah right, the great Col. Hogan has an answer to everything all right._

Langenscheidt reached over to take Hogan's arm. "But now, you must come with me."

Hogan pulled his arm out of the Corporal's grasp. "If it's all the same to you, I would prefer not getting shot before I hatch my grand plan."

"Oh, you won't. Schlausen and Wolfstein are in the north tower. They are friends of mine and know when to look the other way. Besides, someone wants very much to see you."

Against his better judgment, Hogan shrugged and let Langenscheidt help him through the window. The icy wind hit him and the Colonel shivered again. He was beginning to think he would never be warm again in this life.

Sticking to the shadows, they went to a supply building. Langenscheidt opened the door and motioned Hogan inside.

Sitting in the glow of a small lantern was Fraulein Hilda. Even bundled up in a coat, gloves and a scarf, she was a vision of loveliness. Hogan stopped dead for a moment and just drank in the sight before he stepped forward.

"Oh, Colonel Hogan!" Hilda rushed into his arms, hugging him tightly and kissing him frantically.

Langenscheidt stood by the door smiling as Hogan finally, reluctantly disengaged himself. "Hilda, honey, I love seeing you but this is way too dangerous. For both of us."

"I know but I had to see you one last time." Hilda was back in his arms, resting her head on his chest.

"Last time?" Hogan echoed.

Hilda pulled back to face him. "I cannot stay here. Von Reuter makes passes at me all day long and then dutifully calls his wife every day to tell her how much he loves her. But Kleiner is the one who frightens me. He stares at me all the time and says disgusting things to me. I am leaving but I couldn't go without saying goodbye to you."

Hogan's arms tightened around the woman as he listened to her troubles. _If only he hadn't gotten sick. If only Klink hadn't found out. If only he'd done something, anything, immediately._

"Herr Oberst! Soldiers coming, Sergeant Kleiner is with them," Langenscheidt said urgently from the door.

Hogan placed his arm around Hilda's shoulders. "Any other way out?"

"A window to the back," Langenscheidt turned away from locking the door to lead the way.

Pounding began on the door, with voices shouting, "Come out! We know you are in there."

The window in the back was small and frosty. As Langenscheidt, Hogan and Hilda discovered, it was also frozen shut.

There was a crash in the front that told the trio the door had broken. Hogan shoved Hilda down behind some packing crates. "Stay there and don't come out." He nodded at Langenscheidt. "Look, I'm your prisoner and you caught me in here, all right?"

Langenscheidt was a good kid but like his mentor, Schultz, not the quickest. "Oh. Oh, all right." Belatedly he raised his rifle to point it at Hogan.

A squad of German soldiers rushed in and surrounded them. Behind the soldiers, Sgt. Kleiner strolled in, looking like he was at an extremely boring party.

"You captured this man, Corporal?" Kleiner asked with disinterest.

"_Jawohl_, Herr Sergeant. I found him sneaking in here." Langenscheidt broke off as two German soldiers dragged a shame faced Private Wolfstein to the front.

"Take his gun and put him in the cooler. Major Von Reuter will decide what to do with you. I suspect you'll learn who the enemy is when you face the Bolsheviks, you swine. Take him away!"

As two of the guards hustled Langenscheidt and Wolfstein away, Kleiner nodded at two other soldiers who grabbed Hogan by the arms. "Now for you, Colonel Hogan. You decided to go for a moonlight stroll, _ja_?"

"Seemed like a nice night," Hogan said coolly.

"Ah, but for a moonlight walk, one needs a fraulein, isn't that right?" Kleiner said pleasantly as he continued to circle Hogan and the guards. "Ah! But you already have one!" Without warning, Kleiner spun and roughly yanked Hilda out from behind the crates. Ignoring Hilda's whimper of pain, he tightened his grip on her arm. Facing Hogan, he snapped, "You, a supposed officer of a mongrel nation, dare to assault a good Aryan girl?"

The guards tightened their grip on his arms as a third man, whom Hogan had never seen before, stepped forward. He was at least two inches taller than Kinchloe and several pounds heavier. Grinning, he rubbed his fist and then slammed a powerful right into Hogan's midsection. The breath whooshed out of Hogan and he would have doubled over if not for the guards on his arms.

Kleiner held a struggling Hilda effortlessly. "Make him pay for touching our women!"

Hilda screamed. "He did not touch me!" But her protests were soon silenced when Kleiner slapped her hard across the face.

The big guy stood in front of a wheezing Hogan and smiled evilly, exposing a gold tooth in the front.

Hogan saw it coming but the guards held fast as Gold Tooth unleashed a torrent of hard blows to the chest and ribs and then a few shots to the face. The last one snapped Hogan's head to the side with such force that the two holding him feared his neck was broken.

Kleiner held up a negligent hand to stop. "Enough, Steingarten. We must save something for Von Reuter."

The only sound was Hilda's sobbing as Hogan was dragged away, unconscious and bleeding.


	5. Chapter 5 Under Siege

Sometimes you didn't need to open your eyes to know your location, Robert Hogan thought blearily. He lay on a hard board in a freezing room.

The cooler.

Hogan tried to open his eyes but one wouldn't cooperate. His face felt sticky and when he tried to sit up, blinding bolts of agony shot through him. The one eye that did open confirmed his location and he abruptly gave up trying to move. Lying back down with a sharp groan, Hogan cursed every German he'd ever met and even some he hadn't, like old Fruitcake in Berlin.

Then he thought of Hilda and that pig Kleiner striking her.

Rage burned through him, followed by intense frustration. Robert Hogan had rarely felt as helpless as he did now. He was used to being the problem solver, not the victim.

But this would change. Hogan would go back to being the problem solver, even if it killed him.

HH HH HH

When he next awoke, someone was dabbing at his face with tepid water. It hurt and Hogan groaned.

"I'm sorry, Colonel, I'm just trying to get some of this dried blood off your face," Sergeant Richard Baker explained. "If I'd known your eye was swelled shut I would have brought a cold compress as well. Wilson is confined to his barracks, otherwise he'd be here too. But the Krauts are watching him."

Groggy, Hogan tried to push Baker's hand away. "How did you get here?"

"Came through the tunnel," Baker glanced over at the section of wall near the floor that still stood open behind him. At Hogan's worried look, he hastened to add, "It's OK, Colonel. Most of the guys are on a work detail. Olsen and a couple of others are keeping watch. "I can't stay long but I brought some chow." He held up a decent looking sandwich. "Can you tell me what happened last night, sir?"

"Last night?" Hogan tried to organize his thoughts. "What time is it?"

"Afternoon, sir. About three. Work detail will be back in about an hour."

Baker assisted him to a sitting position, which was still a misery to Hogan. "I did a stupid thing last night, Baker. Langenscheidt took me to a meeting with Fraulein Hilda. She's scared and she's leaving. But Kleiner busted in and everything went downhill from there."

Baker noticed Hogan shaking from the cold. "We could bring you a blanket."

"No, I'm afraid not, although I'd love one. But we can't let the Krauts know about these tunnels. You'd better be very careful after this." Hogan nodded at the bloodied rag in Baker's hand. "Do I have any water in here?"

Baker moved to peer at a bucket on the floor. "Some but I wouldn't drink it; it's been here for a while, I think. I'll get some fresh." The young Sergeant knelt down near the open section of wall that and said something. Hogan could hear someone hurrying away as Baker returned to sit beside him.

"Is Von Reuter around?"

"Just at roll call this morning. Made a big announcement that the great Colonel Hogan tried to escape last night. He said you were captured and now in the cooler. We knew you wouldn't try to escape."

Hogan began to carefully chew the sandwich, mindful of his sore jaw. Without looking up, he said casually, "I imagine some of the boys did believe it, though."

Baker flushed. "Well, some. But not the majority."

Hogan abruptly put down the sandwich. "I think Von Reuter and Kleiner are going to keep this quiet. And we can't let that happen."

"What are you thinking, Colonel?"

Despite the cold and the pain, Hogan's mind began to work again. "Look, you need to get on that radio right now. Apprise the Underground and London of our situation. Tell the Underground to make as much trouble as they can around Stalag 13. Nuisance raid, disrupt supplies, anything to make this area look out of control."

Olsen poked his head through the hole in the wall. "Schnitzer's here with the dogs." Taking a look at Hogan's face, Olsen exclaimed, "Oh, ouch, Colonel. You look awful."

"Thanks," Hogan replied dryly. Turning back to Baker, he continued. "Tell London we'll take whatever they can spare in raids as well. Bombing runs, a commando raid with dummies, whatever they have. We also need a supply shipment. Get a list ready for when we can use it."

"Yes, sir." Baker grinned and traded places with Olsen, who also smiled. He looked awful but it seemed Colonel Hogan had finally come back to them.

Olsen held out a small piece of paper. "From Schnitzer, sir."

The little old man who supplied guard dogs to the Germans was also a valuable Underground agent. Reading the paper with its small block letters, it read; "WE WONDER. ARE YOU ALL RIGHT. WE WORRY." Hogan smiled. Schnitzer spoke very good English but his writing tended to be very simplistic. "How'd you get this?"

"Some of Klink's guards are still around. And still liking bribes, although we don't have much left to bribe them with."

"Look, get a message to Burkhalter. He might not care that I got knocked around but I don't think he'll go for Hilda getting slapped. Tell Schnitzer to contact Hilda in town. Have her get a hold of the person who can give the General orders."

Olsen looked puzzled. "Who's that?"

"His sister, Frau Linkmeyer. She and Hilda can have one of those famous woman to woman chats."

Olsen chortled. "That will get things moving."

"And tell Hilda to drop Klink's name. I don't know if the good Frau has any tender feelings left for the old Bald Eagle but anything's worth a try."

Olsen scribbled it all down. "Yes, sir."

Another young man who'd been in Barracks 2 a long time, Hughes, came through the opening lugging a bucket of fresh water, identical to the first bucket. "Hi ya, Colonel. Boy, you look awful." Hughes hurriedly dumped some of the fresh water into the old bucket, so the water level would be the same. "Did you get hit by a train, sir?"

Hogan grunted, "Felt like it. Who is that louse with the gold tooth anyway?"

Both Olsen and Hughes whistled. "That's Steingarten, sir," Olsen explained. "He's a mean SOB and always does Kleiner's dirty work." He dropped to his knees in order to go through the wall opening. "I'd better go and catch Schnitzer. Keep your left up, sir."

Hughes dug into his pocket and held up two candy bars. "I brought you these, sir. Nowadays in the cooler you really only do get bread and water. These were left over from my last Red Cross package; we're not getting them anymore so they might be a bit stale. But I'm watching my weight," the small young man added jauntily.

Hogan stared. Hughes never did weight more than 145 on a good day. But he took the proffered candy anyway, just for emergencies. "Thanks. I'll pay you back."

Hughes down on his knees in the hole replied simply, "You already have, sir. You came back."

HH HH HH

Time went by slowly. With his watch broken in the melee with Steingarten, Hogan had no time measurements. Judging by the times the Krauts showed up with bread and water Hogan guessed that a couple of days had gone by. The lack of communication was driving him crazy; he thought about using the passage in the wall to go down to the tunnels but Kleiner had taken to showing up at irregular intervals, to peer into the small window in the steel door. Just to make life interesting Hogan dragged himself into a sitting position when he heard someone coming. Kleiner would open the window, not see Hogan in his line of sight and have to actually open the door. He would curse and take away what was left of Hogan's water.

Hogan had to admit it but he felt himself growing even weaker. He was perpetually chilled to the bone and his sore ribs protested the sudden movement. The lack of food hampered his recovery.

Hogan did not want to get sick again; he felt the fear every time he thought about it. That's what had caused all the problems in the first place. If he hadn't got sick, his men would be here with him. Even Klink and Schultz would be here. Everyone had depended on him and he had let them down. It was not a comfortable feeling.

HH HH HH

He heard the noise in the hallway before the iron door was unlocked. Hogan sat up, stifling a groan. When the door swung open, one of his least favorite people came in.

"Well, Colonel Hogan, at last I find you where you should be for a change, in the cooler," Gestapo Major Wolfgang Hochstetter snarled disagreeably. He was accompanied by Major Von Reuter, Sergeant Kleiner and two Gestapo guards.

"Major Hochstetter, always a pleasure to see you," Hogan said in a disinterested voice.

"I am pleased you are not in the Kommandant's office, telling Von Reuter how to run the camp." Hochstetter leaned closer. "Or perhaps you have tried, eh, Hogan?"

"No, I wanted some privacy, Major. And a room with no exposure so I wouldn't get a sunburn," Hogan quipped. Tired and sore as he was, baiting Hochstetter was always fun.

"Hmm, you've been running your face into walls too, I see," Hochstetter observed sourly.

"He caused trouble with the guards, Herr Major," Von Reuter put in quickly. "I am told that my guards showed great restraint against much provocation. It was a fair fight."

Hogan stared at Von Reuter and Kleiner behind him. "Yeah, really fair. But I guess the master race needs all the breaks they can get."

"Bah!" Hochstetter roared. "We are the Gestapo; **we** will decide what is fair!"

With a visible effort, the Gestapo Major tried to compose himself, usually an exercise in futility. "Are you sure Colonel Hogan has been here the entire time?" he asked Von Reuter.

"Of course," the Major replied with surprise. "I am not in the habit of letting prisoners go out on unattended strolls. Why do you ask?"

"There has been a sharp increase in sabotage activity around here. The Underground has been very busy; usually this man was behind any trouble before."

"And you let me stay here out of the good of your heart, Major?" Hogan asked sweetly. "No, wait; you never did have any proof, did you?"

"Bah! The Gestapo never needs proof!" Hochstetter yelled. As all the men in the cell digested that statement, Hochstetter nodded at the two guards, who seized Hogan by the arms and jerked him roughly to his feet. Taken by surprise, Hogan could not entirely suppress a groan. Kleiner smirked.

"Ah, so you really are injured then, Hogan." Turning to Von Reuter, Hochstetter said, "You must watch this man carefully, Major. He is a troublemaker and the most dangerous man in Germany."

Von Reuter studied the bedraggled prisoner in front of him. "He doesn't look it."

Hogan gave Von Reuter a dirty look. "You know what they say about judging by appearances, Major."

Von Reuter shrugged. "Your capacity to deceive may be large, Colonel Hogan, but my ability to believe is quite small."

"That I can believe," Hogan muttered.

Kleiner suddenly stepped forward and backhanded Hogan. Totally unprepared, the Colonel fell back on the bunk, hard.

Rubbing a hang against his stinging face, Hogan said quietly, "Well, at least you managed that one by **yourself.**"

Kleiner flushed an angry red and he took another step forward, hand raised.

Hochstetter stopped him with a raised hand of his own. "No, Sergeant, do not strike him again. I suspect it will do no good."

"You wish leniency for this prisoner, Major?" Von Reuter asked with a tone of incredulousness.

"No, not at all," Hochstetter replied quickly. "We at the Gestapo understand these things. But your sergeant there has no technique and such oafishness will not work on this man. The Gestapo has men who are masters of the more, er, aggressive, questioning techniques. This business should be left to them. Besides, you may have trouble with General Burkhalter if this continues. Not only Hogan's condition but the sabotage activity around Stalag 13 is worse than ever. I would look to my own position, Major."

Von Reuter shot a dark glare at Kleiner. "Point taken, Herr Major."

As they left, Hogan tried to situate himself a bit more comfortably on the wooden bunk. He ached, his face stung but his heart was lighter. The message had gotten through. The Underground was striking back. With that happy thought, Hogan drifted off to sleep.

HH HH HH

The sound of a key in the lock awakened Hogan much later. He had no time to react however, as a dark figure rushed in and jerked him to his feet by grabbing his jacket.

Enough light spilled in from the hallway for Hogan to recognize Sgt. Kleiner's ugly face, inches from his own. "Well, if it isn't the resident bully, come for a nighttime visit. How nice."

Kleiner was spitting with hate. "I just had to come see the great Colonel Hogan, clever enough even to make Gestapo majors feel sorry for him. I thought since you like being an object for pity, I would give you just cause, _Amerikaner."_

Hogan, knowing what was coming, suddenly went limp. Kleiner reacted instinctively to catch him. The Colonel used the opportunity to punch the German twice in the midsection. Hogan aimed a left at Kleiner's nose but it landed around the Sergeant's eye. Kleiner cursed, stepping back to feel his eye.

Private Steingarten barreled in from the hallway, slamming into Hogan. He unleashed a flurry of punches to Hogan's head and body. The Colonel fought back for a short while but his blows became more feeble until a right from Steingarten stopped them altogether. Hogan's eyes rolled back in his head and he fell like a stone.

An enraged Kleiner stepped forward and unleashed three savage kicks to the body of the unconscious Colonel. Steingarten added a couple more for a good measure. The Germans then stood in the pool of light, staring down at the American. Hogan lay mostly in darkness but they could see blood coming from his nose and mouth.

"We should just kill him," Steingarten remarked dispassionately. "Simpler all around."

"I think so too, but this one seems to have friends. I was amazed when that little Gestapo rooster interceded for him today. Besides, Von Reuter has no wish for trouble with the Gestapo or General Burkhalter. Too many questions might be asked if he turned up dead suddenly."

"Von Reuter only has time for frauleins, money and wine," Steingarten said dismissively.

"As long as he gets his share, he'll stay out of camp business. And that suits me fine. We need only please Herr Oldham. Now," Kleiner waved a negligent hand to the unconscious man on the floor. "Toss that trash on the bunk and let us be gone."

Steingarten casually threw Hogan on the hard bunk. On impulse, Kleiner reached over to the water bucket. It only had a small amount left in it. Kleiner's hand broke through the thin layer of ice and he casually poured the water on Hogan, who moaned once but did not wake.

Steingarten looked at Kleiner questioningly.

Kleiner smiled. "Not our fault if he gets pneumonia. After all, he's been sick already. The poor Colonel just never recovered his strength."

Both Germans laughed and went out into the hallway, locking the door behind them.

HH HH HH

It was dark and silent in the cell when a section of wall grated open, a little space that sounded jarringly loud in the quiet. A moment or two passed when a quiet voice said softly, "Colonel?"

More waiting, then the section slid out a bit more. "Colonel Hogan?"

Another pause and finally the section slid open large enough to admit a man. Carrying an oil lamp, the man crawled in and stood up, going to the bunk.

His breath caught as he saw the condition of the officer lying there.

"Blimey, Guv'nor, what have they done to you?"

Peter Newkirk leaned down to help Hogan, who was half on and half off the bunk. Lifting Hogan on the bunk and rolling him over, Newkirk saw blood coming from his mouth, nose and a gash over his left eye. The English corporal's eyes widened when he touched Hogan's hair looking for more injuries; the man's head and shoulders were soaking wet! A lethal condition in the freezing room.

"Those ruddy buggers!" Newkirk seethed. "I'll make them pay for this, Guv'nor. I swear I will!"

A noise behind him made Newkirk jump and reach for the gun tucked in his waistband.

Sergeant Olsen came crawling in, holding a lamp. "Whoa, old buddy! It's me, Olsen."

Newkirk lowered the gun in relief. "You gave me a right old fright."

Richard Baker crawled in behind Olsen. "Newkirk!" He said in delight, standing beside Olsen, whose mouth had dropped open when he caught sight of his C.O. lying silent on the bunk. "We thought we heard somebody down here –"Baker suddenly stopped when he noticed Hogan. "What the -"

"What happened here?" Olsen dropped down to his knees.

"You mean you don't know?" Newkirk snapped.

Baker moved over to Hogan as well. "How'd he get all wet?"

"Appears to me you boys haven't been keeping up with the times," Newkirk jibed again.

This time Olsen took offense. "It's a lot different now than it was when Klink was here."

"Yeah, yeah, so I heard. Saw Schultz in town. Still doesn't excuse you two not watchin' the Guv's back though."

Olsen tensed, about to retort but Baker interrupted. "I don't think we're doing too good of a job right now either. We're standing here arguing and he's got a fever building," he nodded, his hand on Hogan's forehead.

"Cor, blimey, not again," Newkirk dropped back to his knees. "Right. You lot go down and get some supplies. We'll get him cleaned up-"

"We can't," Baker interrupted miserably.

Newkirk looked dangerous. "Mate, I hope you're not saying what I think you are."

"The Colonel doesn't want the Krauts to even suspect we have an entrance in here. Remember those three coyotes from the early days, Pellosier, Derbin and Redding?" Olsen asked.

"The sellout artist and his two disciples? I should have sorted them out long ago," Newkirk seethed.

"Well, they're back in Barracks 2. They spend their time watching everything and toadying up to Kleiner, the new Sergeant of the Guard. And that guy's bad news. He'd sell his mother for a mark," Olsen concluded.

Newkirk studied the unconscious Colonel. "Then, I'll take the Guv'nor back to London. The brass can't say anything. He's already done more than three men in this war. And nobody here can say anything, can they?" he added defiantly.

"We won't," Baker said quietly. "But what do you think **he'll** say?" He pointed to Hogan.

Anger suddenly evaporated and Newkirk sighed. "He'll be madder than a wet hen."

Baker moved towards the opening. "I'm going to get some towels and dry shirts. We can at least do that." He disappeared into the tunnel.

Newkirk hurried to the entrance and quietly called after Baker. "Oy! Bring some more lamps too. We're got to warm this freezing tomb up a bit."

Olsen, meanwhile, stripped off his wool lined jacket and tucked it around Col. Hogan. He swore when he saw the new damage inflicted. Hogan's breathing was a bit labored as well. "You might as well know that some of the guys are beginning to doubt the Colonel."

Newkirk, never renowned for patience, became instantly furious. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"He hasn't been the same since he's been back, Peter. He hasn't done anything mission wise and he hasn't gone after Von Reuter like he did Klink."

"Well, what does everyone expect? He's going to come back like an avenging angel, swatting down all the Krauts in his way? He nearly died from that illness. Can't they see that?"

"Most can, but everyone's frustrated right now. Von Reuter's got us over a barrel and now we're just prisoners." Without looking away from Hogan, Olsen said bitterly, "For what it's worth, I think you're right, Peter. You should get him out of here. They're killing him by inches here."

Newkirk sighed and peeled off his own jacket and began trying to dry Hogan's hair. "That may be, bloke, but Baker's right. **He** wouldn't like leaving; the job's not done. Besides there's still Kinch, Louie and my little mate Andrew out there. We've got to find them. We always thought we'd go home together." A thought suddenly struck him. "Here, Pellosier and his cronies are in the barracks, why are you two running around in the tunnels?"

Baker appeared with some supplies and another oil lamp. "I'll be back," he said.

Olsen and Newkirk began the process of stripping off the wet jacket and shirts from Hogan, who did not rouse.

"Remember those knockout drops LeBeau used on the Kraut general that time? I found them in the Colonel's quarters. Saved them for a rainy day, which happened to be tonight." He paused for a moment. "Hey, what you have been doing all this time? Where have you been? And you saw Schultz?"

"Yeah, in Hammelburg. He looks like a condemned man on his way to his last meal. Didn't even blink an eye when he saw me. Said he's waiting to be shipped out with old Klink to the Russian front. As for the rest of it, I left where I was supposed to be and stayed around the Colonel in hospital until I almost got caught. Then, I met this charming, lonely young fraulein…."

Baker returned and all three men gasped as they saw the blood and bruises that covered Hogan's chest, ribs and back. The Colonel had been severely beaten and a red hot flame of anger fired the three men caring for him.

"Those lousy scums," Baker cursed.

"I'm gonna kill'em," Olsen swore.

Newkirk wore a flinty expression. "Get in line, mate."

As Baker left, Newkirk and Olsen worked putting on dry shirts on Hogan.

Olsen looked sadly at the empty water bucket lying on its side on the corner. "We don't dare clean up the blood; there's no water left. They'll know someone's been I here if we do."

"I hope this doesn't go on for too long," Newkirk muttered, studying Hogan's bloodied face.

"Uh oh," Olsen said as his hand touched Hogan's side and the Colonel moaned. "I think he's got a cracked rib."

"Oh great."

Baker returned, noticing the grim looks. "What is it?"

"Might be a cracked rib." Olsen replied.

Baker glanced at his watch. "We'd better get back. Roll call is in an hour and we'd better not chance Pellosier and gang seeing something they shouldn't."

"Where will you be?" Olsen asked Newkirk.

"I'm staying right here on the other side of the wall. Look, if this doesn't work out, I'm taking the Guv'nor and cutting out of here. "I won't stand by and watch him die," Newkirk added defiantly.

"We wouldn't want you to," Olsen said solemnly. The young Sergeant stuck out his hand. "Its sure good to have you back though."

Newkirk grasped the proffered hand and then did the same with Baker. The two young sergeants left, taking the supplies and Hogan's wet clothes.

Hogan still looked awful; his face was covered in dried blood, bruised and swollen. The room was only minutely warmer but at least the Colonel wasn't sopping wet anymore.

Newkirk tried to tuck the pitifully thin blanket in around Hogan. He was desperately unhappy at leaving Hogan at the mercy of the enemy, although both Olsen and Baker assured him that the new Kraut sergeant never tried anything in the daytime.

Selfishly, Newkirk wished Hogan would wake up, even for a moment, just so the Corporal could show him he wasn't alone any longer. Hogan stirred and moaned a couple of times but never came round.

Sighing, Newkirk patted the Colonel on the shoulder. "Never fear, sir, if that ruddy blighter comes back tonight, you won't be alone again." He fingered the gun in his pocket for a good measure.

Judging he had done everything he could, Peter Newkirk returned to the tunnels, resigned to a long vigil.


	6. Chapter 6 Burkhalter Arrives

Young Private Schlausen marched smartly to the gate of the cooler, where, as usual, he was intercepted by Sergeant Kleiner. The gray haired sergeant peered into the water jug and lifted the covering off the bread. Kleiner smirked, nodded approval and motioned for Schlausen to go on through.

It disgruntled Schlausen a bit that the only officer who even began to measure up to his youthful expectations was an enemy officer, Colonel Hogan, who was a member of an inferior race. How could that be? Col. Hogan was popular with his men, secretly popular with a number of the guards and most importantly in Schlausen's eyes, a big man with the frauleins. He had also lived Schlausen's dream; he had been a pilot. Twice Hogan had taken pity on Schlausen and talked flying with him. Each time was etched on the young German's mind.

Approaching the checkpoint inside the building, Sergeant Bruner rose from his desk. He nodded at the tray.

"Sergeant Kleiner inspected the bread and water outside, Sergeant Bruner."

Bruner, an older man with a game leg, snorted. "Naturally. I certainly wouldn't know how to do my job without his checking on me. Go on through; here are the keys. You take care of it; my leg is paining me this morning." Bruner sighed. "Back in the old days we didn't have thugs posing as sergeants."

Schlausen left Bruner to his old days and went down the hall. It was a breach of rules for only one man to open the cell door but Bruner obviously didn't feel Colonel Hogan a threat to force his way out. Schlausen had to agree; the _Oberst_ was too clever for anything that crude.

Out of sight of Bruner, Schlausen lifted the cloth from the bread and grimaced. As usual now days, the bread was stale and moldy. The young German fished another piece from his pocket, a nice fresh hunk of bread from his own breakfast and substituted that, stuffing the moldy piece in his pocket for disposal later.

Unlocking the door, Schlausen called out timidly, "Herr Oberst? Are you awake?"

The young man nearly dropped the tray when he caught sight of Hogan. The American was motionless; his bruised face caked with dried blood. He looked dead.

Setting the tray down hard, Schlausen raced out to where Bruner still sat, muttering. "Sergeant! Sergeant, come quickly! Something terrible has happened. I think Colonel Hogan is dead!"

Bruner got up and hobbled painfully down the hallway, brushing by the excited young private. Making a sound of disgust, he entered the cell and roughly turned Hogan's head aside, feeling for a pulse. Hogan groaned. "He's alive," the Sergeant grumbled.

He came back to the door and pushed Schlausen out. "Come, let's go."

"Shouldn't we get a doctor for him?" Schlausen was confused.

"Doctor? How do you think he got that way? They won't allow doctors in. No, you'll forget what you just saw. You will only get into serious trouble. And," Bruner jerked his thumb back toward the cell, "he will pay the price."

Bruner relocked the cell and led Schlausen away.

HH HH HH

Back in the tunnels, Newkirk breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the Germans leave. Sliding out the section of wall, he crawled inside the cell and checked Hogan over. Hogan was beginning to stir slightly but Newkirk could not wake him.

Getting no response, Newkirk sighed. _How he missed his mates!_ Kinchloe would know what to do. LeBeau would make some sarcastic remark and Newkirk would set him straight, just as the British had always done for the French. And Carter would say something stupid and ol' Andrew would just stand there as everyone told him to shut up.

With a last look, Newkirk got down and crawled through the hole, pulling the section closed behind him.

Moments later, Robert Hogan began to stir.

HH HH HH

When Colonel Hogan finally woke up, he didn't just ache, he really **hurt** all over. His head was pounding and for a moment, he didn't know where he was, until the dreary confines of the cooler finally came back into focus. He sighed. His bad eye, which yesterday had regained some limited vision, was back to being swelled shut today.

It was when he tried to sit up though, real agony struck.

Hogan had cracked up in trainer once during flight school. He'd ended up with a broken rib to show for it. It didn't take a field medic to diagnose the problem again. Hogan cursed; this was just what he needed right now.

While his mind chased around unprofitably pondering these questions, the cell door opened. Mentally bracing himself, Hogan was surprised to see General Albert Burkhalter step inside, followed by Major Von Reuter, Sergeant Kleiner and a young lieutenant who must have been Burkhalter's aide.

"Well, Hoooogaaaan, I see you your mischief making has finally backfired on you," Burkhalter remarked lightly, although he taken appeared aback at Hogan's bloodied and battered appearance.

"Fun and games have gotten a lot rougher around here," Hogan retorted, staring at Kleiner.

"Really, these Americans, they have no discipline and no honor!" Von Reuter erupted in righteous indignation. "Hogan, do you not realize it is customary to stand and salute a superior officer?"

Hogan met Burkhalter's eyes. "I would if I could."

To the Colonel's surprise, Burkhalter grabbed an arm and began to help Hogan up. Seeing this, Von Reuter sprang forward to take the other arm but Hogan snatched it back, with a hissed, "Get out of here."

Affronted, Von Reuter was about to force the issue until a look from Burkhalter stopped him. The portly General had Hogan's arm around his shoulders and pulled the Colonel to a standing position. Hogan nearly passed out but with supreme effort and willpower, he managed not to groan and remained standing, despite the fact that the room was waving around alarmingly.

"I had heard of an incident here at Stalag 13 two nights ago. Fraulein Hilda saw my wife and sister at a café and told them. But I see no mention of it in your reports, Major. Judging by his condition," Burkhalter nodded at Hogan, "it must have been serious."

Von Reuter puffed up in righteous anger. "An American officer of senior rank assaulting a virtuous young German girl? Yes, Herr General, it was serious. But I did not wish to waste the General's valuable time with this. I know you have much more to do than adjudicate prisoner misbehavior."

Burkhalter studied Hogan's face. "These injuries look more recent than two nights ago. What do you have to say, Hogan?"

"Some of the men were quite outraged, General," Von Reuter put in smoothly. "It will not happen again though."

Burkhalter was not to be put off. "So you did attack Fraulein Hilda?"

Hogan wondered how he could be sweating in the freezing cold. "I did ask Fraulein Hilda to meet with me, sir. Corporal Langenscheidt was an innocent party; I tricked him into thinking we were going to see Major Von Reuter. But there was nothing dishonorable intended. Fraulein Hilda is a lady of fine character. I merely wanted to see a familiar face; since I've been gone, everything is so changed. And yes, Fraulein Hilda is quite beautiful. I know the General himself has commented on her beauty."

"Hogan, leave me out of it," Burkhalter ordered sourly.

"Yes, sir. I was down and a little bit lonely. But that was all, General. I would never abuse Fraulein Hilda."

"Well, I've already caught you in your first lie, Hogan," Burkhalter observed.

"What?" Hogan asked, stricken. The room began to spin a bit faster. Von Reuter and Kleiner looked relieved and smug.

"Fraulein Hilda already told my sister that **she** wanted to see **you**. However, lying to protect a lady's reputation is an honorable officer's duty. As for Corporal Langenscheidt, I had already determined that he is guilty of nothing more than youthful naiveté."

The relief Hogan felt combined with his weakness. He swayed and his knees began to buckle. Burkhalter caught him on one side and the young lieutenant on the other. They lowered him down to the bunk, where Hogan sat hunched over, his arm pressed to his side.

"Lieutenant, get a Luftwaffe physician here immediately. Guards!" Burkhalter barked and suddenly Bruner and Schlausen appeared. "Get a stretcher at once and carry Colonel Hogan over to guest quarters."

"No stretcher," Hogan gasped. "I'll walk."

At Burkhalter's nod, Schlausen and Bruner helped Hogan to his feet.

"Well, Hogan it looks like your body is nearly broken" Burkhalter said unpleasantly. "How is your spirit?"

Hogan met his gaze directly. "Never better, General.

Burkhalter smiled. With the General, one was never sure if that was good or bad. "Take Colonel Hogan to the orderly's room next to the Kommandant's. I will be staying on here awhile, Major. I will take your quarters. My sister is already in the VIP quarters; she will stay there. Lowering his voice as Hogan was helped out by the guards, Burkhalter continued. "Major, Colonel Hogan is a troublemaker, a nuisance, a pain in the neck and too clever by half. But he is also a captured ranking officer. His condition is shocking; it is obvious he's been beaten more than once. If you wish to deal with rioting prisoners because of your continued abuse of their senior officer, you will do it alone. I can spare no more men for guard duty at any Stalag." The General paused to give Kleiner a look. "Any man who wishes to fight the enemy should make himself known to me; I will arrange it at once."

Von Reuter stood at attention. "_Jawohl_, Herr General. It shall be as you say."

Burkhalter studied the impeccably groomed man in front of him. "You should know that you were not my choice to replace Klink here as Kommandant. The Gestapo managed to place you here, even though you are in the Luftwaffe. But you will lose your friends and protectors soon enough if this trouble continues. Sabotage activity, Allied raids and now this trouble with Hogan. Daily I am being pestered by the Red Cross; some foolishness over their packages not being delivered. I would suggest more diligence to your duty, Major. I would not wait to ponder it."

Both Von Reuter and Kleiner saluted as Burkhalter and his aide left the cell. The General did not acknowledge.

Von Reuter turned to Kleiner. "You stupid, greedy fool," he hissed angrily.

HH HH HH

In his hiding place, Peter Newkirk clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his yell of triumph when he heard Hogan's decisive reply to old Burkhalter. The Guv'nor may be beaten down but he certainly wasn't broken. After hearing Olsen's remarks about the doubt that had crept in about the Colonel, Newkirk was immeasurably cheered and resolved to get the word spread immediately.

His feelings of elation gave way to exasperation when he heard the Colonel was being moved again. "Blimey, I'll be chasing that man all over the ruddy war!" he muttered.

He bit into a piece of chicken he'd snatched in a daring daylight raid on the Krauts' mess hall. He had some food he'd stolen for Hogan too. _At least Burkhalter will see to it that the Colonel got fed properly._ In the meantime, Newkirk guessed he'd knock around in the tunnels for a while hoping someone would bring him news.

HH HH HH

Awaking, Robert Hogan found himself in a soft, albeit narrow, bed. For a change, he was actually warm and clean. His ribs had been bound and his bad eye had some limited vision again.

A homely older woman sat beside his bed, placidly knitting.

"Frau Linkmeyer?" Hogan asked in a raspy voice.

"Ah, Colonel Hogan," the woman replied in her disagreeably shrill tone. "You are finally awake. The General will be pleased." She put down her knitting and stood up.

"How did I get here?"

"You fainted-"

"Men don't faint," Hogan interjected weakly.

"**Fainted **at the top of the steps to the Kommandant's office," Frau Linkmeyer insisted with some relish. "Heavens, what a mess! The prisoners were about to storm the guards and that fool Kleiner ordered the men on the towers to shoot!"

Hogan was alarmed now. "Did anyone get hurt?"

"That's twice you've interrupted me, Colonel," the Frau informed him primly.

"Sorry. I've, er, been ill."

At this, Frau Linkmeyer did snort. "Among other things, I'd say. When you were brought in, you looked terrible."

"Uh, did anyone get hurt?" Hogan prompted.

"What? Oh, no, thanks to the General." Frau Linkmeyer leaned down to share a confidence. "Oh, Albert is not happy with Von Reuter."

"Then why is the guy here?" Hogan asked sharply.

"He has some family members high up in the Gestapo. Albert didn't want him."

"It's almost enough to make you miss Colonel Klink," Hogan said slyly.

"Let's not lose our heads," Frau Linkmeyer retorted dryly.

Hogan grinned, and then happened to glance down and saw himself in pajamas. He looked at Frau Linkmeyer in horror.

"Do not be stupid, Colonel Hogan. I am a German lady and I do not undress strange foreign men. Your Sergeant Baker has been caring for you. And I told him to shave you today. You looked most unbecoming with that straggly beard." Frau Linkmeyer went out the door and Hogan smiled.

Maybe, just maybe, the tide was turning.

HH HH HH

When Frau Linkmeyer returned she carried a tray with eggs, toast and coffee. Hogan was famished; hardly had the woman set the tray down in front of him before he attacked the food. In record time, Hogan had finished.

"Good heavens, Colonel, there wasn't a time limit on the tray. You'll make yourself sick eating that fast."

Hogan summoned his most winning smile. "I couldn't help myself, Frau Linkmeyer. That was the best eggs and toast I've ever eaten in my life. You are a wonderful cook," he added, with mental apologies to LeBeau.

Frau Linkmeyer preened. "Well, _danke_, Colonel. I know the Stalags are on a strict budget but I think I could fix you some more, if you like?"

Hogan could already feel his mouth watering. "Ma'am, I'd love it."

Frau Linkmeyer gave him her version of a smile; she was much like her brother the General on that and sailed out the door to prepare more food.

Hogan lay back, eyes closed. He was sick and tired of being sick and tired. He was still very sore and he knew even without a mirror that his face was still swollen and bruised. But at least he was warm and had some real food for a change. It was a start.

Now, where to begin on the many problems at hand?

HH HH HH

"Colonel? Colonel Hogan, wake up."

The voice was polite but insistent and reluctantly Hogan opened his eyes. Sergeant Baker stood beside his bed, gently shaking his shoulder.

"Boy, you were really sleeping, sir," Baker remarked. Normally the Colonel was one of the lightest sleepers in the barracks.

Hogan tried to organize his thoughts; he had been deeply asleep. Food, warmth and a decent bed were like a drug. His eyes darted around the room searching.

Baker correctly interpreted his thoughts. "We're alone, sir. Frau Linkmeyer has been raising a little hell; nothing's right in neither the VIP quarters nor anywhere else. She took the guard away to fix something. Kleiner would be furious if he knew we were alone. But I have something to tell you, sir. Newkirk's back. Olsen and I found him in your cell last night."

Hogan still felt sluggish. "Newkirk came back?"

Baker grinned. "He's been trying to stay with you, sir. He never went to England."

"Can't believe it," Hogan murmured. He shifted and winced in pain.

Baker looked in sympathy. "Any orders, sir?"

"Absolutely, Sergeant. Tell Newkirk to stay hidden; having him moving freely will help a whole lot; it might just save us." This time Hogan did sit up, with Baker lending a helping hand. It hurt but it was better than lying down looking up at everyone. Noticing Baker's look of hesitation, Hogan asked, "Problem?"

"Yes, sir. The Underground has kept up the attacks. As a result, Hochstetter's men are all over the woods and Von Reuter has scheduled extra patrols."

"Great," Hogan muttered. "That's just great. And it was even my idea." He sighed. "OK, wait on that. But we need to get those three jokers out of the barracks. With Newkirk on the loose, that just got a lot easier."

HH HH HH

"_Zut!_ Where is my razor?" Pierre Pellosier swore, rummaging through his meager kit yet again in the common room of Barracks 2.

"Where did you see it last, _mon ami_?" the diminutive Derbin, always ready to toady, asked eagerly.

"In my kit, imbecile, where else?" Pellosier said irritably. "Someone has stolen it!"

"You probably just misplaced it," Olsen remarked, with just enough insolence in his voice to infuriate the volatile Frenchman.

As usual, it worked. "I know where I put my things, you fool!"

"Who are you calling a fool?" Olsen shot back.

"Here you go, Frenchie," Redding spoke up and casually tossed the razor on the table. "You threw it in my stuff."

"You idiot! You'll ruin the edge! And I did not 'throw' it anywhere!"

Redding, a surly, sullen American with hair already beginning to gray, immediately bristled. "If you're saying I took it, you're a damned liar."

"No one calls me a liar!" Pellosier replied dangerously. He happened to glance down into Derbin's open kit and furiously shoved the little man aside. "My last _chocolat _bar! We've had nothing since that idiot Colonel Hogan left-"

"Watch your mouth, boy," Baker cut in.

"You don't tell me anything!" Pellosier flared.

"By the sound of it, no one does," Olsen said with a smirk.

"At any rate, I'll take my _chocolat_ now," Pellosier snarled.

"That's mine." Derbin, an American who normally gave into everybody, timidly stood his ground this time. "I put it in my case when this new guy took over for Klink. It's for emergencies."

Pellosier stared hard at the little man. "See this notch in the label? I do this to all my Red Cross items. To prevent _cochons _and thieves from taking what's mine. It seems I am surrounded by them!"

Redding had used the opportunity to peer into Pellosier's case. "You can say that again, Frenchie." He held up a small bar of soap, an item like gold in camp. "I see you helped yourself to my soap!"

"I did not! You placed it in my bag!"

"Yeah, well, you went around notching candy labels, Monsieur," Derbin complained bitterly. "This candy bar is mine!"

Suddenly everyone began yelling and some shoving started. A discreet push from Baker sent Derbin into Redding and the always hair trigger American retaliated with a right fist that Derbin ducked. It struck Pellosier in the face and suddenly the fight was on in earnest.

Baker helpfully opened the door for the combatants to go outside and the German guards soon noticed. Miraculously, only three men were still fighting when Kleiner and guards arrived. Pellosier, Derbin and Redding stood stiffly at attention, while Kleiner circled them, sneering. Von Reuter soon arrived, shaking his head in disgust. "Mongrels fighting over scraps! Send them all to the cooler!"

Olsen, Baker and the other men of Barracks 2 tried not to snicker as the three miscreants were marched off. One man not amused however, as he stood on the porch of the Kommandant's office, was General Albert Burkhalter.

HH HH HH

"Fraulein Hilda, I must ask you; did Colonel Hogan molest you on the night in question?" General Burkhalter asked the pretty young German woman.

Seated in the Kommandant's office, Colonel Robert Hogan awaited her answer, along with Von Reuter, Kleiner, Steingarten and a visibly nervous Corporal Langenscheidt. The atmosphere in the room was tense; Burkhalter sat at Klink's old desk, with Hogan and Hilda seated in front of him. Von Reuter stood at Burkhalter's right side, Kleiner, Steingarten and Langenscheidt stood behind Hogan and Hilda.

Staring at Hogan, Hilda ignored the icy stare of Von Reuter. "No, Herr General, he did not. Instead, **he** was attacked by Sgt. Kleiner and others."

Enamored with having the very decorative young lady around, Burkhalter asked gently, "Were you struck, during the attack, Fraulein?"

Hilda lowered her eyes. "Yes, General."

Burkhalter, who could be a lecherous old goat, was also very gallant in an old fashioned way. "Was this by accident?"

Hilda looked down at her hands and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

Hogan secretly cheered. Every gesture would tweak old Burkhalter's protective streak.

"No, General. Sgt. Kleiner slapped me."

There was absolute silence in the room. Burkhalter stared at Kleiner, who flushed angrily. "I was outraged by the moment, General. That a good German girl would stoop to protecting some Allied swine."

"Yeah, it does make you wonder why she would protect me when I had just attacked her," Hogan added acidly.

Kleiner had started forward a step before he remembered where he was. Burkhalter gave him a withering look and Von Reuter looked angry and exasperated.

Burkhalter turned to Hogan. "Colonel Hogan, when I want your comments, I will ask for them." He turned to Fraulein Hilda, his face softening. "My dear young Fraulein, I know some of these officers must seem very glamorous to you-"

He was interrupted by a snort form Kleiner. Hogan looked anything but glamorous with his bruised and swollen face.

Burkhalter slapped a hand on the desk, making everyone jump. "Sergeant! If you interrupt one more time, you'll find yourself on the first train to the Russian front! Do I make myself clear?"

Kleiner visibly reined himself in. _"Jawohl, Herr General."_ He was hardly the picture of perfect health himself, sporting a large black eye today.

Without thinking, Burkhalter turned to Hilda, still scowling. The young woman wilted and instantly, the portly General softened his look. "As I was saying, Fraulein, I will overlook this incident this time. But it cannot happen again, ever."

"It won't, General Burkhalter. I have decided to resign my post here at Stalag 13. I will find other work in town to support the Reich and do my duty."

Burkhalter's face fell; he always enjoyed looking at Hilda on his visits. Hogan however, had a calculating look on his face and he stared at Von Reuter, who shifted and returned a cold glare.

"The Stalag will be a more dismal place than before, Fraulein," Burkhalter said gallantly. "But perhaps," he flicked a glance at Kleiner, "it is just as well. Corporal Langenscheidt!"

The corporal clicked his heels together. "Herr General!"

"You will never be involved in this sort of foolishness again or next time you will be at the Eastern front. You must not let your judgment be clouded by a pretty face, do you understand?"

"_Jawohl, Herr General_. I understand perfectly."

Burkhalter turned to the man seated in front of him. "Colonel Hogan. Of all the parties involved, you are the one who truly should have known better. Although your Army's discipline may not be as stringent as our, you are a ranking officer of the US Army Air Corp, not a lovesick teenager."

"As always, the General is correct and I accept responsibility for my lack of judgment." Hogan winced as Kleiner gave him a sharp jab in the shoulder.

"Stand when you speak to the General."

"Stop." Burkhalter held up a hand. "Due to his injuries, Colonel Hogan has my permission to sit. He has already paid for his mistakes with time in the cooler. I take no further action in this matter. Major Von Reuter, I trust this will be the end of it. But I do expect to see some follow up reports, no matter what."

Von Reuter clicked his heels together. "Of course, General."

Sgt. Kleiner grasped Hogan's arm, intent on forcing him out of the office immediately.

Hogan, however, had had enough of being manhandled. Wincing, he nevertheless snatched Kleiner's hand off and pushed him away roughly. "Sergeant, maybe military discipline isn't quite as tough in our army but grabbing officers and shoving them around isn't in our manual. How about yours?"

Everyone stopped in their filing out to look and listen. Hilda put a hand to her mouth when she saw Kleiner advance a step on Hogan.

Burkhalter came around the desk, his round face crimson with fury. "Sergeant Kleiner!" he barked.

Kleiner instantly snapped to attention.

Von Reuter belatedly stepped forward. "Sergeant, you have been warned. You will cease this treatment of Colonel Hogan!"

Hogan inclined his head towards Von Reuter, while addressing Burkhalter. "Are you sure this guy's better than Klink?"

Von Reuter looked furious, especially when the General said slowly, "I'm beginning to have my doubts."


	7. Chapter 7 Counterattack Begins

It was an uneasy group that settled down to for dinner in the Kommandant's quarters later that evening. At the head of the table sat General Burkhalter, his round face reflecting his usual displeasure. Frau Linkmeyer sat beside him, her expression mirroring her brother's. Colonel Hogan sat stiffly beside her, hungry for the food but little else from this group. Facing them was Von Reuter, customarily attired in a tailored uniform, not a hair out of place, which made Hogan feel he made a poor show for the US Army.

Von Reuter looked distinctly uneasy however when the food arrived, served by Private Steingarten and Sergeant Kleiner, both with white gloves. The Major rarely, if ever, ate at Stalag 13. Kleiner's black eye was even deeper colors of black and violet tonight however, which made Hogan smile.

As Kleiner thumped down a bowl of soup in front of him, Hogan murmured, "What happened to you, Fritz? Run into a door?"

Subtlety was a lost cause when Frau Linkmeyer was around. "_Ja_, that's right, Sergeant. Did you run into a door?"

Kleiner flushed. "No_, Gennady Frau_. An accident."

Burkhalter glanced at Kleiner's face to the smug expression on Hogan's. "You should be more careful of accidents, Sergeant. It reflects badly to your men."

Kleiner clicked his heels together, his posture stiff. "_Jawohl, Herr General_. I shall remember."

The main course arrived; an unappetizing mess of a pallid meat and undercooked potatoes. Even Hogan, who had been starved in recent days, felt his stomach flip looking at it.

Burkhalter, who preached the Spartan way of life but enjoyed wine, women and food, looked grim. "You must be on survival training, Major."

"My wife has suborned our private chef for her own entertaining, Herr General." Von Reuter looked angry at the thought of his wife.

Frau Linkmeyer, as usual, minced no words. "This food is disgusting, Albert. I would have cooked myself had I know the state of affairs here."

"Certainly not like it was when Corporal LeBeau was here," Hogan put in slyly.

"That's right; a little man with a tall hat," Burkhalter recalled. "French, which was unfortunate, but he could cook. Where is he?" He inquired with great interest.

Hogan stared at Von Reuter with a predatory look.

Von Reuter, his face immobile, said, "I had him transferred out, General. A troublemaker."

"So you pushed the problem off on somebody else. How very officer like of you, Major," Burkhalter observed acidly_._

Von Reuter was angry and defensive. "I found Colonel Hogan's group of insiders to be troublemakers and rabble rousers to the rest of the camp. I took action, in order to stabilize the situation and eliminate the chaos that was present when I took over."

"It's a nice luxury to have, if you're in a situation that's too much to handle. Always blame the guy before you. Colonel Klink never did that, but he was only one man," Hogan said nonchalantly. "Of course, he did control everything."

"Klink!" Von Reuter exploded. "That imbecile! That fawning idiot! Everything was out of control when I arrived, Herr General."

"One officer controlled the camp all right but I suspect it wasn't Klink," Burkhalter observed, looking directly at Hogan. "Inconvenient, being ill like that, wasn't it, Colonel?"

Hogan sighed. "You have no idea."

"Well, this place was much more entertaining when Colonel Klink was here," Frau Linkmeyer declared, with her usual diplomacy.

Kleiner, who had been refilling the wine glasses, suddenly leaned over and deliberately spilled wine on the Frau's dress.

"Oh, how clumsy of me!" Kleiner said with false humility.

Both Hogan and Burkhalter jumped up, Von Reuter a second later, his face a mixture of approval and anger.

"Nice going, Sergeant," Hogan said sarcastically, while wondering how he could use Kleiner's uncontrollable temper against him.

"_Dumkopf!_" Burkhalter roared, silencing everyone. Hogan tried to aid Frau Linkmeyer while Von Reuter stood by uselessly.

"My dress is ruined, Albert!" Frau Linkmeyer wailed.

"Sergeant, you are dismissed," Von Reuter said quickly.

"And you are on report, Sergeant," Burkhalter snapped. "Get out!"

Kleiner saluted smartly and left, but not before a final sneer which rather startled Hogan. _This guy would let a tactical advantage go just to score some instant revenge points._

"Albert, I'm going to change. Are we still leaving in the morning? I think I'm ready to go and never see this miserable place again." Hogan helped the dour woman up by pulling back her chair for her. "Thank you, Colonel Hogan. At least there is still one gentleman left in Stalag 13."

"I'll be with you presently, Gertrude," Burkhalter said tightly.

All three men watched as Frau Linkmeyer left the room, trailing righteous indignation in her wake.

Burkhalter turned on Von Reuter immediately. "Well, Major, I thought I had seen some disasters with Klink but you make that d_umkopf_ look like Bismarck."

"Herr General, this is an isolated incident-"

"Silence! _Achtung!_" Burkhalter was livid. "I want Sergeant Kleiner demoted immediately. He is a disgrace as Sergeant of the Guard. I do not want to see him here again or his next stop is the Russian front!"

Von Reuter tried to relax a bit. "Herr General-"

"I said _Achtung!_" Burkhalter was not finished, to Von Reuter's chagrin and Hogan's pleasure. "Since you have taken over there has been nothing but trouble at Stalag 13. Reports of prisoner unrest and increased sabotage activity are piling up on my desk. When I arrived, I find the camp disorganized, sullen guards and prisoners milling around and the senior POW officer in the cooler, beaten and half starved." Hogan looked startled and Burkhalter's face softened fractionally. "You were the only one brave enough to try the dessert, Colonel. I took that as a sign of your desperation."

Hogan inclined his head. "My apologies for being so obvious, General."

"My point is this cannot continue. Hogan, you must control the prisoners," Burkhalter declared.

"General, with, respect, I must point out that it is not my job to make to make my enemies' life more comfortable." Although the last thing he needed was trouble with Burkhalter, Hogan stood his ground.

"It is your job to safeguard your men though, isn't it? To survive until the end?"

Hogan smiled, conceding the point. "It is, General. But our first duty is to our country, whatever that may entail."

"Granted. But inciting the prisoners to riot is not a duty, is it?"

Hogan sighed wearily. "General, since I got back, I've been in the cooler. I haven't had a chance to incite anybody to do anything."

"Exactly!" Burkhalter thumped the table. Turning furiously to Von Reuter, he snapped, "Major, your actions are incomprehensible. You incarcerate the senior POW officer, abuse him and then are astonished when the prisoners rebel."

"Herr General, his mere presence incites trouble. I can explain-"

"I'm not interested in your explanations. Only results. You have more excuses than that fool Klink. In short, gentlemen, I want no more problems here. Von Reuter, do you think you are capable of handling that?"

His entire posture stiff with anger, Von Reuter nevertheless clicked his heels together. "Of course, General. Allow me to express my apologies for-"

"You may express your apologies at Stalingrad if this continues. Your Gestapo connections can only shield you so far. And you, Colonel Hogan. What are you going to do?"

Seeing an opening, Hogan decided to risk it. "I'm sure the General knows the value of a good subordinate?"

"Indeed." Burkhalter glared at Von Reuter. "I have so few of them."

"There are a number of new men in the camp I don't know-"

"Proof of the Third Reich's continued victories," Von Reuter cut in smoothly.

Both Burkhalter and Hogan stared. "For a moment, I thought Colonel Klink was back," Hogan remarked.

Burkhalter sighed. "For me, it's like he never left. Continue, Hogan."

"I can really use Sgt. Kinchloe, sir. He was my adjutant and my right hand man. I would like his help."

Burkhalter stared hard at Hogan. "Colonel, this would not be one of your little games, would it?"

"General, you asked for my help. I'm giving you a realistic assessment of what I need. I've been gone for three weeks. I've spent most of the last week in the cooler. The situation has changed at Stalag 13. I don't want my men killed but neither will I surrender to blackmail, provocation or physical punishment. I'll be honest, sir. I won't be derelict in my duty to my country."

Burkhalter sat silent for a moment. "All right. Where is Sgt. Kinchloe, Major?"

Von Reuter sat blank; it was clear he had no idea who Kinchloe was.

"I've been told Stalag 4, sir," Hogan replied when it was clear Von Reuter couldn't.

Burkhalter waved a hand. "See that it is done, Major. When I return, I do not expect you two to be squabbling like schoolboys."

HH HH HH

Newly demoted Private Kleiner escorted Hogan back to Barracks 2 and barely restrained himself from shoving the American colonel through the door. He did place a hand on Hogan's shoulder and the Colonel angrily shook him off. Baker, Olsen and several others immediately jumped up. Seeing a lot of hostile faces arrayed against him, Kleiner backed off a step. "Just remember, pigs. Lights out at nine; **no** exceptions." He smiled unpleasantly.

"Get out of here, **Private**," Hogan hissed. Seeing Steingarten loitering a few steps back, he added, "And take Igor with you."

Kleiner looked livid and for a moment, Hogan wondered if he had provoked him into another attack. However, spotting Burkhalter's car still parked in front of the Kommandant's office, he reluctantly decided to move on.

With relief, Olsen closed the door on the departing German. "That guy sure has it in for you, Colonel."

"Yeah, I know and I love him too," Hogan said abruptly. "Better have Newkirk lay low for a while; we don't want our least favorite Kraut dropping in at a bad time."

"Newkirk's not in the tunnels, Colonel," Baker informed Hogan.

"Why? What happened?" Hogan asked with a trace of alarm.

"No, no, nothing like that," Baker said soothingly. "Newkirk's been scrounging around, building up our supplies. Nights are the best time, he said."

"He needs to be extra careful; no chasing girls," Hogan grumbled. His head was already aching; playing games with Burkhalter, sparring with Von Reuter and guarding his back from Kleiner had taken a toll. Trying to ignore his physical ills however, he asked, "What's the situation with the Underground?"

"They've been hitting any target of value and some that aren't. Just being a nuisance if nothing else. But they're running low on munitions and they've had some close calls with the Gestapo," Baker reported.

"OK, tell them to back off for a while. It's Von Reuter we want to look bad, not have Hochstetter running around like a crazed dog. What's London say?"

The way Baker and Olsen exchanged glances he knew it wasn't good. "They want to know how soon you can get the operation up and running," Olsen said bitterly.

If he'd had the energy, Hogan would have cursed. "Tell them… we're working on it." Without another word, he went into his own room and closed the door.

HH HH HH

Hogan drifted into a restless, disturbed sleep, complete with a few nightmares, fueled by worry and Von Reuter's heavy, indigestible food.

Someone shook his shoulder a short while later and whispered, "Colonel Hogan? Wake up, sir."

At first it was hard to see in the glow of a flashlight pointed down, but Hogan soon realized it was Corporal Newkirk.

"Newkirk!" Hogan swung his legs off the bunk; he had been so tired he'd fallen asleep in his clothes. "What are you doing here?"

"Been here for a bit, sir. You just haven't seen me until now." Newkirk said proudly.

"I would have thought you would have been in England by now." Hogan remarked softly but inside, his spirits lifted immeasurably at the mere sight of the English corporal.

"I was on me way," Newkirk admitted. "I came to see you in the hospital and almost got caught one night. But I saw enough to reassure myself they were taking care of you, in Kraut fashion, that is."

"I thought you were there once," Hogan said distantly, "but when I finally woke up you were gone and I thought maybe I dreamed the whole thing." Hogan paused for a moment and then asked, "Did you get sick too?"

"I felt a bit off when we left Stalag 13. Just tired. Not sure why but I never caught whatever it was you had."

Hogan stared intently at the Englishman. "It seems I owe you for a lot of things, Corporal."

Newkirk looked uncomfortable. "Well, I couldn't just leave things as they were, not knowin', you know."

Hogan nodded. "Thanks for staying with me when I was sick."

"Well, you're hardly the picture of bloomin' health now," Newkirk said slyly, noting all the bruises and swelling.

"You still haven't answered my question," Hogan said quietly. "Why? Why come back? You could have gone home honorably."

Newkirk, the rebel, shifted uncomfortably. "Well, as I said, I was going to leave. But I decided to stop off at Stalag 13 for a bit, you know, just to tell the lads you were in hospital and being cared for. I arrived in time to see them cart off me little pal Andrew to Stalag 11. Then I realized there was no way I could leave until **all** five of us did. Carter was right that time he said he thought we'd all be here together when we finally got liberated."

"I'd like that too," Hogan said softly.

They sat in silence for a moment. Then, Newkirk asked, "What's the plan, Colonel?"

"Oh, just get rid of Von Reuter, Kleiner and get the other guys back. Not much," Hogan said casually.

"We'll do it," Newkirk replied confidently.

"By the way, that was nice work with Pellosier and company."

"Piece of cake," Newkirk scoffed. "Amateurs, they are. Oh, by the way, I've some very good cookies for you." He held out a napkin covered bundle.

"Cookies!" Hogan exclaimed. "Don't tell me you've taken up baking?"

"Naw. I've met a sweet little fraulein in Hammelburg who's taken a shine to me," Newkirk said smugly. "She works in a bakery."

"Hammelburg?" Hogan closed his eyes; visions of Newkirk running around wild in a city full of women danced in his head. "Please be careful. You're the only advantage we have right now. The Krauts don't know about you. Don't take chances and don't get caught."

"No, I'll be careful." Newkirk studied the Colonel intently. "So what is the plan, sir?"

Hogan pinched the bridge of his nose. Everyone kept asking him that. And each time he felt inadequate. "Somehow we make Von Reuter and company look bad; hopefully bad enough to bring Klink and Schultz back."

"Think old Burkhalter would go for having that silly sod Klink back?" Newkirk asked doubtfully.

"He might," Hogan said thoughtfully. "Turns out Von Reuter isn't Burkhalter's man at all. He's Luftwaffe with Gestapo connections."

"No wonder I can't stand the man." Newkirk's expression hardened. "But that Kleiner needs sorting out." He patted his pocket, where the pistol rested.

Hogan held up a hand. "Wait on that a bit. If something that drastic happens to Kleiner, we could all end up in front of a firing squad."

"Colonel, you can't let him keep beating on you. Baker tells me he has some goon with him to stack the odds always in his favor."

"Yeah," Hogan said grimly. "Some idiot called Steingarten, who seems to have no other purpose in life other than do Kleiner's bidding."

"Well," Newkirk patted the gun, "just remember I'll be there."

The door opened slightly and Sgt. Baker peered in. "Colonel, the Krauts are stirring early today. Kleiner's out rousting the guards now."

"All right. Here's the deal. Newkirk, do we have enough food in the tunnels for, say, four or five guys?"

Newkirk looked doubtful. "Not really, Colonel. I haven't gotten around **that** much yet. More like two or three, for a few days only."

"OK, wait a bit and stockpile everything you can, Newkirk. Baker, find me some guys who can be trusted and are willing to escape. For a while, at least."

HH HH HH

"Herr Kommandant!" Sergeant Mueller nearly stammered in nervousness. "I beg to report three men are missing!"

Von Reuter's expression of benign contempt changed instantly to fury. "What?"

"From _Barracke_ 4, sir."

"Three days as Sergeant of the Guard and you already lose prisoners? You are a disgrace to the German _Luftwaffe!_" Von Reuter spat out.

Beside the Major, Private Kleiner smirked evilly.

Von Reuter advanced on Hogan. Standing in front of the American colonel, Von Reuter tried to intimidate but was at a disadvantage being a couple of inches shorter. "I see your word is worth nothing, you officer of a mongrel nation. I wonder what General Burkhalter will say when he returns."

"**If** he returns," Hogan corrected. "I wouldn't count on it, especially if you get the same chef as before."

For a brief moment, Hogan thought Von Reuter was going to take a swing at him. He felt Baker move up closer behind him, with Olsen edging in from the side, in Newkirk's old spot.

With visible effort, Von Reuter reined in his temper. "You like playing with fire, I see. Very well. Since you have broken your word-"

"I never gave you my word," Hogan interrupted coldly. "I also said I could not guarantee what would happen if my men were provoked. Rotten food, no Red Cross packages, no wood for the stoves and charming psychopathic guards," he flicked a glance at Kleiner, "all constitutes provocation in my book."

Von Reuter smirked. "It's a shame you don't have the General's private number; you could make all your whining public."

Hogan stared evenly at the Major. "What makes you think I don't?"

Von Reuter looked startled for a moment, and then laughed heartily. "Oh, what passes for wit amongst the _Amerikaners._ However, I will have to deprive your men of your shining company." Von Reuter's hand came up, with a Lugar aimed at Hogan's chest. "Hear this, all you pigs. Any more escapes will have grave consequences for Col. Hogan. I hope you will bear this in mind. Private Kleiner, Private Steingarten, you will escort Col. Hogan back to the cooler, where he will remain until the men are recaptured."

With malicious glee, Kleiner stepped forward and motioned with his rifle for Hogan to go to the cooler.

Hogan took a step forward, and then stopped. Without looking at the Germans, he addressed the prisoners. "Men, face it, we've had it."

A shocked and surprised murmur broke through the ranks. Von Reuter looked surprised but suspicious.

"Think about it. When they've got tough guys like these two," he nodded at Kleiner and Steingarten, "lolling around the Stalags in place of fighting at the front with their buddies, you know the Krauts must be winning. Because you know these guys aren't shirkers!"

A roar of derision went up from the men and Kleiner looked livid. Von Reuter gave Kleiner a glare. "Take him to the cooler. And this time don't mark his face," he hissed in an undertone.

Almost as one, the prisoners snapped to attention and saluted as Hogan walked to the cooler, followed by a fuming Kleiner and stoic Steingarten.

From a window in Barracks 2, Peter Newkirk turned away, his expression worried. _The guv'nor was playing a dangerous game._ But this time Newkirk vowed he would have his back.

HH HH HH

The key in the lock turned and Hogan decided to remain lying down. He was getting tired of jumping up for every Kraut that came calling.

To his surprise however, and with comical stealth, Sergeant Hans Schultz lumbered in, making a show of looking around and checking behind him. At last, his gaze settled on Hogan, who had risen from the bunk. "Um, Schultz, would it make you feel better if I said, halt, who goes there?"

"_Och du liber, _Colonel Hogan, you are back! Ooh, you do look awful though," Schultz declared, looking at the bruises.

For his part, Hogan was a bit taken aback by Schultz's appearance. The portly Sergeant seemed to have aged ten years since they last saw each other. "Well, Schultz, I hate to say it but you look kinda worn too. How come you're back here in paradise anyway?"

Schultz puffed up visibly. "I have recaptured Sergeant Carter in Hammelburg, at great personal risk."

"_Dumkopf,_ he walked up to you," a weary voice said from the hallway. Colonel Wilhelm Klink walked in, uniform trim and monocle in place. "I was waiting for you to announce me," he scolded Schultz.

As usual, Hogan rose to Schultz's defense. "It's OK, Kommandant, er, Colonel. I don't stand on formality here at the villa."

"Well, Hogan, if you don't mind me saying so, it looks like life in the villa seems to be a bit arduous." Klink observed.

Hogan shrugged. "Some days are better than others. What brings you around, Colonel?"

Klink puffed up immediately. "Well, I did have to return Sgt. Carter after I recaptured him.

Hogan sighed. "Colonel, you just told me that Carter found you."

Klink visibly deflated. "Oh yes." The bluster faded and in a defeated voice, he said, "Schultz and I leave for the Russian front next week."

"If you don't mind me asking, why the delay? I figured you would already be shipped out?"

"I suppose it was to give me time to get my affairs in order," Klink replied glumly.

"Listen, Von Reuter is not Burkhalter's man. I suspect that's the delay." Hogan gave Klink a sly look. "Maybe you should rethink the Frau Linkmeyer situation. The General would certainly find a safe place for his new brother in law."

Klink drew himself up with affronted dignity. " Colonel Hogan, like the good German officer I am, I will go with strength and dignity to my next posting."

Schultz rolled his eyes and Hogan lost patience. "Well, in that case, happy snowshoeing, Colonel,"

Klink stiffly saluted, Hogan half waved back and Schultz fumbled with the door. Before he could call anyone to unlock it however, Klink spun and clutched Hogan by the shoulders. "Hogan save me! Do something!"

Hogan disengaged himself. Having Klink and Schultz attempt detective work was asking for trouble but his options were limited. "Colonel, do you have any contacts in the Gestapo? Other than Hochstetter that is."

"I should hope not," Klink replied fervently.

"Klink, we need to know who's protecting or promoting Von Reuter. That might give Burkhalter some leverage. Find out what you can about this guy. And where's our stuff going? Does he have black market contacts or what?"

"Well, the General is not pleased with the escapes here at Stalag 13." Klink gave Hogan a speculative look. "You've been busy, Colonel Hogan."

"Like the good Allied officer I am," Hogan shot back. Suddenly an idea struck him. "Wait a minute. How does Hochstetter feel about Von Reuter? Are they pals or what?"

Klink thought for a moment. "No, I do not think so. Hochstetter is angry about the underground activity and the escapes. Questions are being asked in Berlin."

"We can use that," Hogan said, thinking furiously. "See what you can get out of Hochstetter."

"Hogan, I detest that man."

"Colonel, need I remind you-"

The door was unlocked and Kleiner stood in the doorway. "The Major asks if you require anything, Colonel Klink," he said in an oily tone, giving Schultz a dirty look. Schultz immediately returned the favor.

Klink turned to Hogan. "Well, Colonel, I hope you can stay out of trouble," he declared in a loud, falsely cheerful voice.

Hogan winced. Good old Klink could not have been more obvious if he tried. "Yeah, Colonel, I'll try real hard. You have a good time playing in the snow."

Klink scowled and stomped out by Kleiner. Schultz shrugged and extended his hand. "Well, good luck, Colonel Hogan."

Hogan clasped the offered hand. "Keep your head down, Schultz."

Schultz shrugged and shouldered past Kleiner, who smirked. Hogan threw himself down on his bunk, intensely frustrated.

HH HH HH

The section of wall moved out fractionally and Newkirk whispered, "Is it safe?"

Hogan swung off the bunk. "Yeah, right now."

The wall slid open further and Newkirk crawled out, followed by Sgt. Carter.

"Look who's back, me old mate Andrew!"

Carter looked ready to laugh or cry. "Oh Colonel, it is so good to see you!" On impulse, he gave Hogan a fast but fierce hug, and then saluted.

Newkirk looked embarrassed. "I say, old boy, one does not hug one's commanding officer."

Hogan returned the salute. "We'll make an exception this one time."

Turning to the young American, Hogan felt slightly guilty; how many times had he told Carter to shut up during a day anyway? "All right, Carter tell us how you ended up back in Shangri-La and being brought in by Klink and Schultz at that?"

Carter looked at the floor. "I left Stalag 11, sir. Guys were mean there. Guards too. I got either KP or latrine duty practically every day. It wasn't fair!"

"Carter, didn't you have a sergeant in charge, someone to take your grievances to?" Hogan asked.

"He was the guy giving me those duties," Carter admitted miserably.

"That ruddy blighter," Newkirk seethed. "Why, I ought to go back there and-"

"And do nothing," Hogan finished. "We don't have time for that. Go on, Carter."

"Well, I decided to leave. I wanted to bring a guy with me who was nice but he got scared and decided to stay. I blew up a storage building that night; boy, you guys should have seen it go up. What a sight!"

"Carter," Hogan held up a hand, to stop the excessive description that was sure to follow. "What happened next?"

"I left and went to Hammelburg. Wanted to see if any of you guys were back here at Stalag 13. I saw Schultz at a beer garden one day. Boy, was he drinking too much! He told me that he and Klink were awaiting orders for the Russian front. He also told me that you were back, Colonel. Gee, if you don't mind me saying so, you don't look too good yourself. What happened here?"

Hogan shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I've had sergeant problems here too, Carter."

Newkirk snorted. "We'll take care of him, Colonel."

Hogan, however, had already moved on from the threat of Kleiner. "Klink was in here earlier. He doesn't know why he and Schultz aren't already on their way to Russia. I suspect the delay might be Burkhalter."

Newkirk stared in disbelief. "Why would ol' Burkhalter want to save Klink? He threatened up with the Russian front enough times himself."

"Maybe for his sister," Carter spoke up. "Frau Linkmeyer might still want to be Frau Klink."

"No, it's more than that," Hogan said thoughtfully. "According to the Underground, Baker said Von Reuter is from an aristocratic but bankrupt family. He also has relatives in the Gestapo which doesn't endear him to Burkhalter. And somehow these creeps Kleiner and Steingarten have latched on here as well. I think all three are intent on looting this camp for everything they can steal. Of course, there's the added benefit of staying away from the front as well."

"Well, that's not right. We've got to do something!" Carter declared.

Newkirk looked pained at Carter's simple summation but Hogan smiled. Funny what used to be irritating didn't seem so bad now. "Carter, heaven help me, I've missed you.'

"Oh, you're regret saying that, Colonel," Newkirk replied. "Mark my words."

Carter, on the other hand was completely serious. "I've missed you, Colonel. You and all the other guys. You don't know how much I've missed you."

The sincere emotion in Carter's voice rendered the two perennial wise guys, Hogan and Newkirk, temporarily speechless. Finally, Newkirk admitted, "I feel the same, Andrew."

Hogan stared at both of them. "Look, we can share memories of barbed wire and lousy food later. Right now, we have to get rid of the problems."

"If you'd let me, I'd get rid of that Kleiner bloke right now," Newkirk declared.

Hogan hesitated. "I'm no martyr. I won't deny I'm tempted. But killing him would bring more heat than we could handle. We have to get the goods on these guys and make Klink look good. Maybe Burkhalter could bring him and Schultz back."

"Gosh, how are we going to do that?" Carter asked.

"Ideally, it would be great to get some pictures; some hard proof. I tried to plant the idea with Klink about the black-market. I hope he'll go running to Burkhalter and maybe an investigation can get started. If we can get some information, we could get the Underground involved."

Baker appeared at the wall opening. "Von Reuter's on the move, Colonel. I think he's headed this way."

"OK, get going." Hogan began moving Carter and Newkirk out.

The RAF corporal lingered for a moment, fingering the .45 caliber pistol in his hand. "I'll be right on the other side, sir."

Hogan was regretful but firm. "We still need you on the outside. Stay under cover, no matter what. That's an order, Corporal."

Newkirk looked defiant but with a shove from Hogan, went back into the tunnel. Hogan pushed the wall back into place, and then hurriedly flopped onto the bunk to affect a nonchalant attitude when the big iron door opened.

Major Von Reuter stood there, with a newly reinstated Sergeant Kleiner beside him.

"Colonel Hogan, I am very angry with you. General Burkhalter is angry with me. Clearly something must be done."

The cell door closed behind the Germans and Hogan braced for what was to come.

Kleiner's hand held a syringe.


	8. Chapter 8 The Old Gang Is Back

The assembled prisoners of Stalag 13 watched with a mixture of curiosity and dismay as their commanding officer was marched out at gunpoint to stand beside Major Von Reuter. Sgt. Kleiner stood beside the Colonel while Private Steingarten lurked behind him.

Hogan walked with a stiff gait, looking neither left nor right. It was noted by the men up front that Steingarten took care to remain behind him and seemed to be guiding the Colonel to stop beside Von Reuter. Hogan stared off into space, his eyes glassy.

The sight did not reassure his men.

"Prisoners of Stalag 13," Von Reuter began in a pompous parade ground bellow. "Last night another man escaped." Von Reuter was quickly shouted down as a cheer went up. "You will not be so joyous when you hear the consequences of these foolish acts. The Gestapo has taken over the task of recapturing these malcontents. They will shoot to kill. You must accept your status as conquered soldiers from defeated nations. You should be directing your energies to what you will do to be productive citizens in the glorious, victorious Third Reich!"

Several guffaws broke out over that statement. But they were instantly hushed when Kleiner swung his rifle to point at Hogan's chest. The Colonel gave no indication that he noticed.

While Von Reuter outlined the punishments he was going to impose, a truck pulled into the yard. Two prisoners jumped out after their guards had checked the area.

Sergeant James Kinchloe and Corporal Louis LeBeau had returned to Stalag 13.

They stood, gawking at the assembly, unnoticed by Von Reuter who was still pontificating. Kleiner however, took note, motioning with his head that Corporal Langenscheidt should take charge of the new prisoners.

Kinchloe and LeBeau were both riveted to the sight of Colonel Hogan standing beside the German major.

" _Mon Dieu! _I never thought I'd see him again," LeBeau declared emotionally.

"Yeah, but something's not right," Kinch said slowly. "Something's off here."

"Colonel Hogan has been very badly treated since his return," Langenscheidt said, his face flushed with shame at the part he had unwittingly played in it.

"Look at him," Kinch pointed out. "The Colonel's s always moving around, bouncing on his feet, hands in his pockets, always doing something. Now he's just standing there. Not moving, not talking, not anything."

"_Certainment._" LeBeau gave Langenscheidt a dirty look. "What is happening here?"

The young German looked resigned. "Nothing good."

Von Reuter had continued on nonstop. "Colonel Hogan agrees with me that the escapes must stop before somebody is killed in an unfortunate accident. Isn't that correct, Colonel?"

To the astonishment and anger of Kinchloe and LeBeau, Steingarten produced a hidden pistol and placed the barrel of it in the back of Colonel Hogan's head, giving him a sharp jab. The prisoners in the front row were not fooled but any further back it looked as though Hogan had nodded in agreement.

LeBeau broke into a torrent of angry French and Kinch had to grab his shoulders to keep him there. "We can't do anything with a gun at the Colonel's head."

Von Reuter spewed some more threats and finally Kleiner was given permission to dismiss the prisoners. Colonel Hogan was led back to the cooler, almost guided there by Steingarten.

"He's drugged," Kinch said in disbelief.

"_Oui._" LeBeau agreed grimly. "The filthy Bosche knew the _Colonel _would never go along with this."

"You'd better come with me," Langenscheidt said wearily. "Major Von Reuter was instructed to speak with you and inform General Burkhalter when you arrived."

HH HH HH

The large man slipped into the crowded Hamburg Hofbrau, wearing a suit, trench coat, fedora and sunglasses, despite the fact it was dark outside. In short, Hans Schultz's idea of a disguise.

Peter Newkirk rolled his eyes as Schultz made a show of nonchalance, only bumping into one waiter as he made his way to the table. With a final look round, he sat down with the Englishman.

"Schultzie, don't ever let them draft you into undercover operations. If there were any Gestapo agents here, they're bound to be watching this table after that entrance."

"Well, I am sure all the frauleins noticed me," Schultz declared, winking at the barmaid and ordering two beers.

"No doubt," Newkirk grunted. "Come on, Schultz. I don't have all night. It's risky being out here."

"Keep your shirt on," Schultz said pompously. "Colonel Klink has found out something."

"Well, glory be. The age of miracles. What's he found out?"

"Colonel Klink has discovered Major Hochstetter does not like Major Von Reuter. The Major's brother in law at Gestapo headquarters has been causing trouble for Hochstetter because of the sabotage activity. However, the escapes from Stalag 13 have now caused trouble for Von Reuter and Hochstetter is doing his best to make certain the blame goes to Von Reuter and his brother in law."

"Well, that's one thing we did right," Newkirk observed, bemused. Taking a quick gulp of the beer, he began to put on his coat. "I'll pass it along, Schultzie."

"Wait!" Schultz was at his most dramatic. "There's more."

Resigned, Newkirk sat back down. "Well, if you could get to the point, Schultz."

"Major Von Reuter's brother in law has a cousin, Herr Oldham. He is a big man in Düsseldorf." Schultz lowered his voice to a loud whisper. "It is said he runs a very large crime ring."

Newkirk, never slow to pick up on criminal implications, whistled softly. "Blimey. A man with connections like that would have no problems moving anything Von Reuter could throw his way, from food to arms."

"And that's not all. Sgt. Kleiner used to work for this man Oldham in Düsseldorf."

"Aha!" Newkirk leaned back in his chair like Sherlock Holmes. "Things just became a lot clearer." His expression changed to one of with surprise and admiration. "You really did well, Schultz. And the old Iron Eagle too. How did you find all of this out?"

"Colonel Klink contacted Major Hochstetter. During their talk, Hochstetter was called away for a moment. The Colonel read the file on his desk while Fraulein Hilda kept his secretary busy. He is sweet on her. But I do not think Colonel Hogan should worry. Fraulein Hilda speaks of him constantly."

"The Colonel's got more important things to worry about nowadays. Like staying alive."

"The Major is still treating him badly?" Schultz asked with real sadness.

"He'll get around to it again soon, I'm sure." Last night Newkirk had been unable to contact Hogan. A guard had stayed in the cell all night. Newkirk had left without speaking to the Colonel today and worry gnawed at him.

Schultz touched his arm. "Will I see you again, Englander?"

Touched by the raw desperation in Schultz's voice, Newkirk felt an emotion he rarely indulged in: compassion for an enemy. "I really don't know. Normally I'd tell you that Colonel Hogan would think of something, no problem. But he's fighting battles on every front and I just don't know if he can pull it off this time."

Schultz sighed, then rose with an air of finality and clicked his heels together. "Ah well, it was worth a try. You boys have been a lot of trouble. But you are good boys. I will miss you."

Newkirk held out his hand and Schultz took it. "I'll miss you too. Even the old Iron Eagle. Well, to some extent. You two keep your heads down and watch your backs."

"Ach, we will not return. We already know this. But we will do our duty." Schultz clicked his heels together again, put on his dark glasses and made his way to the door.

Newkirk watched in fond sadness. The old barrage balloon would be dead within two days at the front, with the monocle wearing Iron Eagle with him.

The fondness changed to annoyance however, when the waiter approached with the check. "Blimey, he stuck me with the ruddy check!"

HH HH HH

_It should have been better than this._

Here they were, improbable but true, but the five of them were together again. It should have been joyous but instead there was a siege state around them and they were the beleaguered party.

Louis LeBeau sighed and placed another cold compress on Colonel Hogan's forehead. Hogan was truly miserable; feverish, soaked with sweat and suffering from muscle spasms.

"Thanks, LeBeau," Hogan managed through gritted teeth. "Kleiner took great delight in telling me there would be side effects. I guess this is it."

"What was it, Colonel?" Kinch asked.

"Some experimental Gestapo drug." Hogan paused, and then admitted, "I felt like I was dead. I could see and hear but I couldn't speak." He gave Kinch a searching look. "The men didn't buy it, did they?"

"Everybody knew something was wrong. I mean, it was pretty obvious from where I stood." Carter spoke from his position of guarding the door in the cool cell.

If anybody felt more wretched than Hogan, it was Newkirk, who stood in the corner saying nothing.

LeBeau moved to stand beside him. "You cannot blame yourself, Pierre. Blame the filthy Bosche."

Newkirk was not consoled. "I couldn't check on him this morning before I left."

LeBeau shrugged. "As I said, nothing you could do."

Watching Hogan endure another spasm, Carter suddenly spoke up. "Colonel, I think you should escape."

Silence greeted that statement, until Hogan said, "We've had that discussion before. I just can't do it; leave the other men to the tender mercies of Kleiner and Von Reuter."

"Then we'd better get started," James Kinchloe said. He'd not left Hogan's side since he entered the cell. "What are your orders, sir?"

"We need to get Klink's information to Burkhalter. Newkirk can get Klink to go to Burkhalter but some independent confirmation would be nice, maybe an anonymous source. That always works well. Newkirk, can you hook up with Schultz again?"

"Good as done, sir."

"Kinch, you take care of the anonymous call to Burkhalter."

"No problem."

"In the meantime, let's keep the escapes going. Are the guys at the Underground safe houses still?"

"Yes, sir," Newkirk answered. "They're not too keen on the idea of coming back soon but they're staying put under they receive new orders."

"Good. Klink will need to recapture them to make himself look good. Let's put the heat on Von Reuter."

"What about you, Colonel? You know he'll put the heat on you." Newkirk said starkly.

Carter drifted in from the door. "Colonel, you should go. Escape with the other guys. Get away from these people."

Hogan was genuinely torn. "Look I don't relish being Kleiner's punching bag. But I just can't risk it. The whole operation is at stake."

Sergeant Richard Baker appeared at the tunnel opening, holding a small bucket. "They're serving dinner. Anybody want mine?"

"Disgusting!" LeBeau declared after a quick look.

"What's up, Baker?" Kinch asked.

Baker hesitated for a moment. "Er, London has a mission for us."

A storm of protest broke out, the loudest being Newkirk and LeBeau. Hogan sat up, arms wrapped around himself. "What is it?"

"They need us to rendezvous with the Underground at a small arms factory near Hammelburg. The one we hit last year. Seems the Krauts have got it up and running again. We need to get the explosives to the Underground agents."

"Ridiculous," LeBeau scoffed.

"No, it works fine," Hogan quickly replied. "Newkirk, you and Carter go out tonight. Meet with them but I want you two to place the explosives. Maximum damage. It will give the Krauts something else to think about."

"How about having LeBeau go out with them?" Newkirk suggested.

"Why?"

"Why not?"

Hogan felt his patience begin to fray with his wayward RAF corporal. "Newkirk," he said warningly, "you can't stay here with me every night. If we can't get Klink moving with Burkhalter, we're going to need Plan B. And that will be you. Understood?"

Newkirk kicked the floor, refusing to meet Hogan's eyes.

Kinchloe gave the Englishman a sharp nudge. "He understands, Colonel."

Hogan said nothing; just sat there, arms crossed.

"Oh, all right." Newkirk gave in with ill humor. "But don't blame me if Kleiner and that goon kill you one night."

Hogan smiled grimly. "It's OK, Newkirk. I'll haunt Carter instead."

"Hey!" Carter was indignant. "You just give me the word, boy, uh, Colonel and I'll show those Krauts and thing or two."

Everyone managed a smile as Kinch ushered them out. Being the last one, he paused at the tunnel opening. "I can be right outside in the tunnel, Colonel. No problem at all."

Hogan shook his head regretfully and lay back down, still trembling. "I need you to keep on top of this, Kinch. Keep everyone in line. It's essential that we get Burkhalter moving if nothing else."

"Right." Kinch paused. "Until tomorrow?"

Hogan nodded wearily. "Tomorrow."

HH HH HH

"Klink, I am tired. This had better not be your usual foolishness." Albert Burkhalter lowered his bulk in to an overstuffed chair in his office. The conference with the Fuehrer had not gone well and had been extended two extra days, primarily it seemed, to allow Germany's leader more time to scream at his military men. Burkhalter was not pleased to see Colonel Wilhelm Klink waiting for him the second the staff car arrived.

"Oh, no, General Burkhalter, none of my usual foolishness." As always when he was nervous, Klink chattered away. "Although I would never waste the General's time with any foolishness. I take very seriously my-"

"Klink!" Burkhalter roared. "Come to the point!"

"The point? Oh yes, the point. Well, I have been doing some top secret investigating at Stalag 13."

"Klink, Stalag 13 is no longer your responsibility. You should be buying winter clothing." Burkhalter smiled as always, warmed by the thought of Klink bumbling around in the snow.

"Er, yes, General. But…." His nerve suddenly failing, Klink thrust out a large envelope. "I think you should see this."

With an openly skeptical look, Burkhalter took the envelope and opened it. Papers and pictures fluttered out. As he read, his eyes widened and his round face grew dark. "Klink, do you know what this says?"

"Yes, General, I do."

"Where did all of this come from?"

"Some of it from Stalag 13's own records. Some of it from Major Hochstetter's files, which I took the liberty of looking at one day. The pictures came from an anonymous source."

"Anonymous?" Burkhalter's eyebrow went up.

Klink shrugged. "No return address or signature."

"Yet the boxes shown here are clearly supply boxes from Stalag 13," Burkhalter observed. "These are Red Cross boxes. But how did they get to Düsseldorf?" The General's face took on a crafty look. "Klink, have you been in contact with Colonel Hogan?"

Klink grew indignant. "General Burkhalter, at great personal risk, because it was my duty as a loyal German officer, I put this information together myself."

"Answer the question, Klink."

Klink sighed. "Once, General. I had to go back to Stalag 13 to gather some of my personal belongings and I did stop in to see Colonel Hogan in the cooler."

"The cooler?" With an effort, Burkhalter heaved himself to his feet. "I gave specific orders that Hogan was not to be put back into the cooler. It incites unrest in the prisoners. Come, Klink, get your coat. We are going to Stalag 13."

"Tonight? General, the weather is terrible." Klink was astonished.

"Yes, tonight. When my orders are disobeyed, it makes me very angry. Something you would do well to remember, Klink."

"Oh yes, General. I will. I mean, I do. Nothing wrong with my memory. Many times I've been complimented about my memory," Klink gushed.

Burkhalter tuned Klink's nattering out as he called for his driver and his coat. Someone may have just given him the wedge he needed to get the feared Gestapo and their accursed relatives out of his command.


	9. Chapter 9 Showdown

Robert Hogan knew something would happen tonight. It was in the air, as Newkirk would say.

Von Reuter had left for Berlin earlier in the day. Before leaving however, he had arranged that Hogan be placed in a barred cell in the cooler. The move meant no tunnel and no Newkirk.

The Englishman had been frantic when he made this discovery. Reluctantly, he waited in Hogan's old cell. He'd already picked the lock and could get out joining Hogan at any time. So they waited.

Just past three a.m., Hogan, who was awake, heard a noise and saw two flashlight beams coming down the hall. He swung his legs off the bunk and sat up but did not stand.

Kleiner's voice came out of the darkness. "Colonel Hogan, you'll be happy to know your time has come. You're going to escape."

Caught in the beams and blinded by their light, Hogan held up a hand to shade his eyes. He could see very little. "I'm delighted. I hope you've arranged some first class accommodations. I hate economy."

The key slid into the door lock. "You won't complain, Colonel," Kleiner replied.

As the door swung open, Hogan could make out Kleiner holding one flashlight. The other person stayed back in the shadows.

"Come on out, Colonel. It's your road to freedom," Kleiner taunted.

Standing, Hogan backed up to the one solid wall. "No thanks. I think it would be a very short road."

Out of the darkness, a knife whistled through the air, embedding itself in the wall next to Hogan's left arm. He glanced down to see his jacket sleeve torn. Looking at Kleiner, who still stood in the entrance with his flashlight and a gun, Hogan remarked, "Your little friend there is good. Does he do sword swallowing tricks as well?"

There was a noise, a thud and a groan from down the hallway by Hogan's old cell. The lights suddenly flipped on, causing everyone to squint.

Steingarten appeared. "You were right, Sergeant. There was some English rat hiding in the cell. I had not seen him before."

Kleiner sneered at Hogan. "So, that was your rescue plan?" He advanced a step closer and suddenly the Colonel could see the syringe in Kleiner's hand. "Do not worry; this little needle will give you strength."

Worry about Newkirk gnawed at Hogan but he would not let Kleiner know that. He backed away. "Oh, no. Please, not that. Not again." Hogan said weakly. Becoming aware of blood running down his arm, he suddenly swayed. "I think your boy there cut it a bit fine," Hogan said, holding up his hand.

The third man, a small, mean looking bald man with a habitual scowl, spoke up for the first time. "He's not that bad; I know what I'm doing. It is right where I aimed it."

Kleiner, who had been about to reach for Hogan, suddenly snatched his hand back. "You are always scheming, are you not, Herr Colonel?"

Hogan straightened up but still kept his right hand on his bleeding left arm. "Every moment of every day, Kleiner. Remember that," he said in a cold, hard voice, so unlike his everyday tone for talking.

Kleiner smiled unpleasantly. "Oh, I will. But not for long; for it will be irrelevant soon. Now, will you come along quietly or do you need this?" He said, holding up the syringe.

He gave Hogan a shove out of the cell. The unknown man went to retrieve his knife. Steingarten stood by, expressionless.

HH HH HH

The night was cold with a freezing drizzle. There was a ghostly fog around Stalag 13. The searchlights swung around but their light seemed to accentuate the stark gloom rather than illuminate it. In short, a night that few people would be looking outside on.

The damp cold hit Hogan like a punch in the stomach. He shivered and continued to worry about Newkirk as Kleiner and the small man took him to the cooler entrance.

His fears were justified when Kleiner told Steingarten, "Go back and get the Englander. Let's get rid of both of them tonight."

"_Jawohl_. Steingarten moved to comply.

The small man left to get a car. Kleiner kept Hogan covered with both pistol and syringe.

The car approached headlights off and keeping out of the search lights. Kleiner gestured with the gun. "Get in, Colonel. You are going to Düsseldorf but you do not have to be alive when you arrive."

The small man got out and opened the back door. Robert Hogan stood in the freezing air in seeming indecision. With an impatient snort, Kleiner gave him a shove.

Hogan turned the shove into a lunge at the small man. He felt the point of the knife enter his right arm but this time he managed to knock the small man to the ground. Reaching inside the car, Hogan laid his hand on the horn and held it down.

The shrill noise shattered the ghostly stillness. The searchlights swung around, the guard dogs began a frenzied barking and more guards rushed out of their barracks. Sirens sounded. Suddenly there was shouting, barking and chaos.

Kleiner raised his pistol to shoot Hogan in the back but the small man stopped him. "Not while I'm here. It might trace back to the boss!"

With an angry hiss, Kleiner rushed Hogan, dropping the syringe and the gun, which he had tried to place in his coat pocket. The Colonel turned and took his hand off the horn to meet Kleiner's attack with some blows of his own. He peppered Kleiner with sharp jabs to the face and one hard blow to the midsection. Surprised, Kleiner fell back under the attack.

The small man charged in with his knife, swinging wildly. Hogan managed to evade the deadly blade but Kleiner jumped him again. Hogan was hampered a bit by the need to protect his ribs but red hot anger and frustration fueled him. The two fell on the wet, frozen ground, trading punches.

The small man watched intently for an opening. He became concerned however when he saw all the German soldiers running at him. His presence would be hard to explain at a POW camp. Panicked, he jumped into the idling car and headed for the gate.

His plan stopped in its tracks however when the gates were blocked by another car coming through. A staff car that bore General's flags on the fenders.

Surrounded by armed soldiers and caught in the searchlights, the small man raised his arms in surrender.

Tapping on the window that the small man reluctantly rolled down, Corporal Karl Langenscheidt smiled unpleasantly. "_Abend. _Papers please."

HH HH HH

The fighting between Kleiner and Hogan was brutal and dirty. Once Kleiner picked up the syringe and made a wild swing. The needle cut a long and shallow furrow on the back of Hogan's left hand and it started bleeding profusely. But it did not stop Hogan punching Kleiner again and again. Kleiner returned the favor but his punches were getting wilder and missing a lot.

The German soldiers were confused and leaderless. Prisoners tried to break out of their barracks but most were driven back. The other guards were torn between duty and the desire to see Kleiner defeated. He was not popular with most of the guards, having abused his authority far too much.

The two combatants picked themselves up off the ground and broke apart for a moment, both gasping for air, bruised and bloodied.

Kleiner slowly looked around, just now realizing that German guards were standing and watching. "You will all be in Russia by next week!" He hissed angrily. He then charged into Hogan, trying to ram his head into the American's midsection.

Hogan fell back under the onslaught but interlocked his hands into a two fisted slam onto Kleiner's neck. The effect staggered the German and Hogan followed up with several quick blows to the face. On the last punch, Hogan hit Kleiner so hard he felt like he'd broken his own hand. Tottering for just a moment, Kleiner finally went down hard.

Everyone stared in shock at the unconscious German sergeant. Then, Steingarten shouldered his way through, thoughtlessly dropping an unconscious Newkirk to the ground. He faced Hogan with a malicious smile. "I am going to enjoy breaking you."

One of the German soldiers, Private Schlausen, made to stop Steingarten but he raised his pistol and pointed it at the young man, who backed off fearfully.

Hogan, too, took a half step back, fear in his eyes. He couldn't take Steingarten on his best days, certainly not now. In a moment however, Hogan squared his shoulders. He probably wouldn't live forever anyway, so might as well go down swinging.

"Hey! Do you ever take on a fair fight or only those you've made sure you're going to win first?"

Several eyes bulged out at this open taunting and Steingarten looked to face the brazen man.

Sgt. James Kinchloe stepped into the circle. He, LeBeau, Carter and a few others from Barracks 2 had made it outside. Kinch looked contemptuous of the German. "I'm waiting, big guy."

Steingarten smiled; his gold tooth glinted in the searchlight. "Come on, savage. I'll take care of you and then I'll finish with your commander."

Hogan took a step forward. "Kinch, don't," he said warningly.

Kinchloe shucked off his jacket and tossed it to LeBeau, who stood by with Carter. "Colonel, you've more than done your part. My turn now. Besides, I need to atone for my part in this mess. I'm the one who got us all sent away. Let me make it right."

Hogan looked confused but LeBeau nodded. "Later, _mon Colonel_." He and Carter drew Hogan out of the way.

Kinchloe turned to Steingarten. "Well, can you fight or only hold guys down for Kleiner?"

Steingarten smirked and charged. Kinchloe, who had golden gloves boxing experience, expertly dodged and weaved. While Steingarten flailed at the air, Kinch peppered him with jabs and body punches. It quickly became a pattern. Steingarten chasing Kinchloe and getting punched as he pursued the American sergeant.

Finally, Steingarten had had it. He pulled a pistol out of his pocket.

"Enough. I will kill you both," he declared, looking at Kinchloe and Hogan. He pointed the gun at them.

"You are right, Private. That will be enough!"

General Burkhalter's voice was instantly recognized and the German soldiers immediately pointed their weapons at Steingarten. Burkhalter, Klink and Sergeant Schultz pushed through the crowd. "Guards, if he shoots, kill him," Burkhalter said with an unpleasant, shark like smile.

Looking at the hostile faces surrounding him, Steingarten stood in uncertainty. He badly wanted to kill Hogan and Kinch; it was plain on his face. But with so many rifles pointed directly at him, Steingarten reluctantly tossed the gun in the mud. He threw it with unnecessary force, hoping it would discharge but nothing happened.

"Guards, take these men to the cooler. Get the dogs back into their pen. All prisoners shall return to their barracks. And for heaven's sake, turn off the lights and the siren!" For once, no one argued with Colonel Klink's orders.

HH HH HH

It was a bedraggled group assembled in the Kommandant's office the following morning. Everyone was waiting for another to arrive.

There were voices in the outer office. The door opened and Major Von Reuter sailed through the door. He smirked as he spied Colonel Robert Hogan seated in front of the desk, bruised and battered.

Von Reuter's wide smile froze when he saw General Burkhalter seated behind the desk, with the Gestapo Major Hochstetter standing on the General's right, Colonel Wilhelm Klink on his left. Sergeant Schultz, Corporal Langenscheidt and two other soldiers guarded Sergeant Kleiner and Private Steingarten, both standing at attention and wearing handcuffs. Both men looked like they had been in fights, judging by the black eyes, bruises and swollen faces.

Von Reuter attempted to recover. "Herr General, had I but known you were coming-"

"You seem to have a lot of time to run about the countryside. Your duties are light here, _ja_?" Hochstetter growled with his habitual scowl in place.

"Yes, a lot of running about. Never seems to have time to do anything here," Klink put in, oozing evil delight in Von Reuter's discomfort.

"Shut up, Klink." Burkhalter said absently. He snapped his fingers and Hochstetter put a file in his hand. "Major Von Reuter, these are Gestapo reports. You are charged with diverting camp supplies from Stalag 13 to the black market operation of Herr Oldham, whose agent, Hans Oberlin, was apprehended here in this camp. You have also been selling the Red Cross packages to the black market. You are accused of having ordered the murder of the senior POW officer. You have been criminally negligent in administering this camp. Your subordinates," Burkhalter barely deigned to flick a glance at Kleiner or Steingarten, "have conspired to help you steal supplies not only from prisoners but also the Third Reich itself. How do you plead?" Burkhalter glanced at his watch, giving the impression that five more seconds was too long.

"Herr General, these accusations are false! There is no proof!" Von Reuter protested, white faced.

"Major Von Reuter, your dossier is bulging with proof. Documents, photographs and eye witness accounts. Some of Herr Oldham's men are not so loyal to you. Starting with Herr Oberlin." Hochstetter grated.

Von Reuter flicked a bitter glance at Hogan, the only person seated in the room other than Burkhalter. "I cannot imagine the Gestapo caring over much if this man should die," he spat out.

"No, we wouldn't," Hochstetter agreed pleasantly. "But we wouldn't have botched the job!"

"Nice to know I'll get the very best," Hogan said sweetly.

"Bah!" Hochstetter replied.

"Herr General, this is all a mistake. My brother in law is with the Gestapo; he can vouch for me."

"Your brother in law cannot vouch for anybody now. He was executed by the order of Reichsfuhrer Himmler himself this morning. It seems your little operation caught the Fuehrer's attention personally. The Gestapo have very shifting alliances in times when one is more trouble than one is worth. I suspect Herr Himmler thought it best to limit the damage before it spread any further through the ranks, hey Hochstetter?" Burkhalter inquired with a sly smile.

The Gestapo major was clearly uncomfortable with the subject. "Er, whatever you say, Herr General."

Burkhalter slammed a meaty hand on the desk. "Enough. You are guilty, Major."

"I do not get a trial?" Von Reuter demanded, incredulous.

"You just had it," Hogan murmured.

"Major Hochstetter will take you to Berlin where you and Herr Oldham will meet justice. The car is waiting. Guards!"

Two Gestapo guards joined Hochstetter and they escorted the stunned Von Reuter out. Burkhalter turned to Kleiner and Steingarten. "You two have demonstrated an affinity for fighting, although neither of you seems very good at it, I observe. You are going to the Russian front. Private Steingarten to Minsk, Private Kleiner to Stalingrad. You leave immediately. Dismissed."

Schultz got the door and waved through Kleiner and Steingarten. Langenscheidt and the two soldiers went as guards. As Kleiner brushed by Hogan, he lashed out with his cuffed fists. Hogan was expecting something though and moved quickly out of range.

Schultz, of all people, took the situation in hand. "Hey!" he said, swatting the back of Kleiner's head. "You call yourself a sergeant! You can't even follow orders. Walk straight. Head up. Pretend you are a German soldier. In the Kaiser's day, you would have been shot already!"

As the others watched in amazement, Schultz shooed Kleiner out, peppering both him and Steingarten with criticism and shoves.

"Sometimes he really can be a sergeant," Burkhalter remarked with surprise.

"I wish it happened more often," Klink said uncharitably.

A few moments later, Schultz came back in, making a show of holding the door for Fraulein Hilda, who carried a tray with a coffee pot and cups and on it. Being a smart girl, she was sure to smile prettily at Burkhalter, who beamed back. After pouring however, on her way out the door, she gave Hogan a sultry smile that made him forget some of his exhaustion and aches.

"As you can see, Fraulein Hilda has consented to come back to work at Stalag 13. Klink, I do hope you can hang onto your command this time."

"Oh yes, General. When I sink my teeth into something, I never let go. I am relentless in my determination, sir."

"Yes, yes," Burkhalter waved a hand of dismissal. "And Col. Hogan, I have restored your man Kinchloe to you. I trust we will have no more prisoner riots."

"I will do my best, sir." Hogan looked earnest which immediately raised Klink's doubts about his sincerity.

"The little French chef is back as well on my orders," Burkhalter announced. "I trust he will have a decent dinner prepared upon my return?"

"If we have any food, General," Hogan said pointedly.

"I'll send some things on ahead," Burkhalter replied hastily, remembering his last meal at Stalag 13.

"Hogan, I've already contacted the Red Cross. Your packages should be here by next week," Klink informed them. Is there anything else, General?"

"No. Try to stay out of mischief, Hogan." Burkhalter admonished with a pointed look.

"Yes, Hogan keep out of mischief. Any funny business it will be the cooler!" Klink blustered.

"Home, sweet home," Hogan shot back.

"Hogan," Klink warned.

"I'm going, I'm going." Hogan paused at the door. "Besides, it's so embarrassing to watch a grown man with a monocle slobbering with happiness over being reunited with an office!"

Burkhalter smiled and Klink said angrily, "Dismissed, Hogan!"

HH HH HH

"Well, isn't it lovely to see you looking so well these days? Been feeling fine, have you, Powers?"

Samuel Powers froze; he knew that voice too well. "Um, Newkirk, how nice to see you. I'd heard you'd gotten hit in that fracas last night."

Peter Newkirk stepped away from the building's shadow, hands in his pocket, cigarette dangling from his lips. "Oh, just me head. That chap Steingarten knocked me out. Bad headache I got out of that. Really disappointing, you know. I was so looking forward to sorting that blighter out. But the Colonel got Kleiner, Kinchloe took care of Steingarten and ol' Burkhalter sent Von Reuter packing. That only leaves you, old chap."

"Me?" Powers yelped. "Look, your precious Sgt. Kinchloe came very near to giving me brain damage. Surely that's payment enough. Besides," Powers added nervously, "I only did what a lot of chaps talked about doing."

Newkirk flicked his cigarette away and gave Powers a disdainful look. "A lot of chaps might have **talked** it but you were the one who betrayed Colonel Hogan to the Krauts. I take a dim view of that, Powers. I really do." Without warning, Newkirk gave Powers a hard shove.

The young Englishman fell back squarely on his dignity. He stared up at Newkirk, his face a mixture of fear and reproach. "You're as bad as Jerry."

Newkirk shrugged. "War is war, mate. I'm not a fair play type guy like the Colonel or Kinch." Leaning over the fallen man, he added, "You know, I've never had much use for you toffs but I did meet one in hospital in Hammelburg who earned my respect. We talked a goodly long time that night and then he died the next afternoon. Have to send his last letter home with the Underground. Think how sad his family is going to be. When I think of the difference between him and you…." Newkirk bent over so he was face to face with Powers. "Just know that I will be watching you. Every little thing you do. What I don't see, your pal Sgt. Kinchloe will. Or Corporal LeBeau. Or Sgt. Carter. Or Olsen or Baker. Know that you're a marked man. Don't slip up again."

Powers watched from the ground as Newkirk left. As he got up, he saw other prisoners watching him, as well as the guards. He felt eyes on him everywhere. He shivered.

HH HH HH

James Kinchloe viewed the scene in front of him much like a family reunion. The barracks was crowded and noisy as some of the men moved out by Kleiner returned to Barracks 2. LeBeau, wearing his chef's hat, stood by the stove, stirring something that smelled delicious. Sgt. Schultz stood nearby, his tongue hanging out. Kinch expected the big man to sit up and beg at any moment.

Andrew Carter sat at the table, talking to Olsen and Baker. He was trying to show them a card trick Newkirk had taught him but the cards flew out of his hand and went everywhere. Olsen and Baker burst out laughing. Red faced but good natured, Carter picked up the cards to try again.

Kinch lit a cigarette and glanced at the window. The sun was setting and the night promised to be long and bitter. _Just like the war_, Kinch thought ironically.

He spied Newkirk coming back to the barracks and Kinch worried, wondering what the RAF corporal had been up to.

Newkirk entered, bringing the cold air in with him, to good natured protests. Putting his collar down, he said pleasantly, "What sort of slop is that, LeBeau?"

"It is not slop, Newkirk!" Schultz exclaimed, horrified at the thought.

"Pay him no mind, Schultzie," LeBeau soothed. "Everyone knows the English have no taste in anything."

"Enough to know when we're being poisoned." Newkirk ventured a look into the steaming pot. "Er, what is that?"

"I wanted to have _mon Colonel's_ favorite, steak, but there is none to be had. War, you know."

Everyone looked at Schultz, their usual supplier, and he became instantly defensive. "I tried, believe me!"

"Oh, we do," Carter replied. "You wouldn't want to miss an opportunity to have LeBeau cook. "

"Exactly," Schultz agreed with gusto.

"Anyway, I compromised. We are having a chicken stew, LeBeau style, which I know the Colonel will enjoy very much." LeBeau declared, shooing Schultz away.

Newkirk looked around. "Speaking of, where is the Colonel?"

"General Burkhalter and Kommandant Klink made him see the Luftwaffe physician who is here. He had several cuts on his arms and hand. Did you know one wound took four stitches?" Schultz was round eyed with ghoulish horror.

As the other peppered the Sergeant with questions, Kinch drew Newkirk aside. "You all right? You disappeared for a while."

"Yeah, fine." Newkirk, seeing Kinch was not satisfied with that answer, sighed. "I just had a quick chat with our mutual friend, Powers."

Kinchloe looked alarmed. "Peter, you didn't-"

"Naw, nothing like that. He fell down once, that's all. But just glance over his way once in a while; that will be enough to keep him in line."

Kinch looked dubious but LeBeau came around with the coffee and the conversation was tabled for later.

Later, Robert Hogan came through the door and was inundated with questions about his health, Burkhalter, Klink and what was happening with Von Reuter

Kinch and Newkirk came over to him, Carter pulled out a chair and LeBeau sat a full cup of coffee in front of him. Hogan sat down wearily. His bomber jacket hid the bandages on his arms but the left hand bandage was visible. "Hold it, guys. I'm all right, Von Reuter is gone forever – Schultz, I can't believe you didn't already tell them that."

"He was too busy drooling into the soup pot," LeBeau said acidly.

"I know nothing about it," Schultz said self-righteously.

"Well, you'd better get back over there. Burkhalter wants his boots off and Klink is ready for his bedtime hot cocoa and a shoulder to cry on. The General is talking about bringing Frau Linkmeyer back with him next time."

"But I won't get any stew!" Schultz protested.

"It's not for you," LeBeau snapped. "Now, get out!"

Watching the diminutive LeBeau push the rotund Schultz out the door was always entertaining and everyone admired the show.

Kinch sat down beside Hogan. "So, what has happened to Von Reuter?"

"Well, he didn't get executed. Not right off. Burkhalter got word late this afternoon that Von Reuter is going to the Russian front as well. I think he's going up in a plane that is expendable. His life expectancy is not likely to be long."

"Good riddance," Baker declared.

His mouth watering, Hogan sipped his coffee. "What are you cooking, LeBeau? It smells great."

"It is chicken stew. I also have fresh baked bread, thanks to Newkirk and pumpkin pie, thanks to Schultz, who got the pumpkins."

"Um, Newkirk? Not that I'm not grateful but I think you're going to have to cut back on the visits to town now. We can't risk you getting caught." Hogan said with real regret.

To his surprise, Newkirk shrugged. "Oh, that's all right, sir. It's time to stop; she's getting strange ideas. Wants me to marry her and buy the bakery. As if!"

Everyone burst out laughing. LeBeau dished out the stew (thankfully they did have extra for Schultz) and the men of Barracks 2 had the best dinner they'd had in weeks.

They talked until Schultz came back with a lights out warning. Hogan said his goodnights and headed for his office, with Kinch trailing behind.

His eyes questioning, Hogan shut the door so it was just the two of them. "Kinch, are you all right? Why did you say you had to atone for something?"

Seeing the exhaustion in Hogan's eyes, Kinch said gently, "How about I tell you about it tomorrow? You look like you're out on your feet, sir."

Hogan had been about to argue but Kinch was right; despite the glow of contentment, he was very tired. "All right. But we need to get something arranged with Klink to bring back the 'escaped' prisoners tomorrow. Gotta make the old Iron Eagle soar again, at least in Burkhalter's eyes." Hogan rubbed his gritty eyes. "But everything else all right now, isn't it, Kinch?"

Thinking about all they had been through, Kinch had no problem with that one. "Yes, sir. Everything is all right now."

_Thanks for reading!_


End file.
